


Dragon Wolf: Wolves, Dragons and Roses.

by AlexRetzer



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cousin Incest, F/M, Incest, Teen Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-01-22 19:42:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 19
Words: 69,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21307559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexRetzer/pseuds/AlexRetzer
Summary: A year before the events of the show, Jon Snow and Sansa begin a relationship that they know will lead to ruin. As love and revelations are revealed, Jon Snow must become his fathers child and reclaim his birthright. The actions of Jon and Sansa put Westeros on a different course but also send the pair to Essos to find the mother of dragons.
Relationships: Jon Snow & Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Jon Snow/Sansa Stark/Daenerys Targaryen/Margaery Tyrell, Sansa Stark/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 168
Kudos: 347





	1. Sansa I

**Sansa I: Winterfell **

She felt the tears sting her eyes as she struggled to remain placid before her mother and father, her sister not even trying to conceal a smug smile beside her. Damn her! Why couldn't they see that their youngest daughter was at fault? Why didn't her mother punish Arya for what her sister had done to her eldest and frankly, more dignified daughter. Arya may as well be a boy save for lack of a cock between her legs. If she hadn't bathed with her sister when they were but little girls, perhaps she'd have suspicions herself.

"Now girls. It isn't right or proper for ladies of Winterfell to carry on as you are. Sansa, apologize to Arya for destroying her toys."

Arya seemed to huff a bit at this but somehow had the sense to stay silent. If the gods old and new favored her little sister, they did not dine to give her their favor.

"So what?! Father they were just...just toys. A wooden sword has no place in a girls hands any more than sewing needle and thread on a knights person. Mother believes as I do."

She used her most firm backer, the one parent she confided and listened with baited breath on every word. Surely her mother, Catelyn Stark, would rise from the depths of silence like the mighty Fish she was and placate the Wolf's misdirected admonishment.

But her mother didn't do any such thing!

Instead Catelyn Stark's eyes turned from Arya, who was now realizing her own mistake by wiping off the smile to replace it with a sullen frown.

Acting! Her little sister was acting like a jester caught in a bad joke.

"Sansa! You broke your poor sisters sword after you had the misfortune to sit upon a needle left on your chair, mayhaps it could have been your sister but rather than coming to us you assumed the worst, absolute worst of your own kin."

Now her mother turned to her father and gave a nod.

"No knitting or trips to local villages outside the castle til the next moon."

That was more than ten days! Ten insufferable days where she would be practically confined to Winterfell with not a needle and thread. Ten days she'd have to listen to her best friend Jeyne Poole, talk of stories and rumors.

Her father kept speaking, telling Arya she'd need to make a small scarf or some such before the last moon was up. In return the little wench would receive regular lessons with a bow.

"But father that's not something for a lady! She's getting off easy!"

Her father regarded her a moment before speaking.

"Your a lady of House Stark, Sansa. It far past time for you both to end your sqaubbling. Aye I would expect as much fire from one as young as your sister but not you. You've seen Ten and two name days come to pass. Your nearly a woman. What if Robert or some other Lord came to Winterfell in search for a match to their son?"

The thought of being betrothed to Prince Joffrey Baratheon made her go weak in the knees. The image of her in an immaculate dress glittering with gold trim as her husband to be, took her in his arms and said vows before the god in the Sept.

It would be the stuff of fairy tales and legends long past. The culmination of every story she'd read that told her exactly what kind of man she'd want. Bold and bedecked in Chivalry, with eyes only for her and a heart he'd welcome only her into. He'd tell her of his fears though they would be naught compared to her own. As a king he'd have the weight of the whole kingdom on his shoulders and she'd be there to support his every endeavor.

"Sansa?" Her father asked as she felt Arya give a small nudge to her side.

Oh no!

"Seeing as you've got much on your mind and can't make time for either of us, perhaps its best Lord Pools daughter stay away until the moon as well."

No!

"You can't! Who will I talk to if not her? She's my truest friend!"

Her father rose from his chair silent as a field mouse and came to stand before both herself and her sister.

"I am Lord of Winterfell Warden of the North and your father. You'll do as I command. Both of you will heed my words and we shant discuss this further."

She looked to her mother again but instead of a warm smile or pleading look, she only got a stern reproachful look. She'd sworn her mothers temperament better matched that of an angry Septa than the woman who'd given her life.

Arya spoke up.

"As you wish Lord father. I'll try to be a better daughter."

Her father actually melted at her sisters words. His gruff look of challenge and irritation replaced with a smile as he bent down to ruffle Arya's hair a bit. The Git of a sister actually leaned into the embrace. A smile of glee at her triumph escaping the notice of all but Sansa.

"None could be a better daughter Arya. Try to get along with your sister for the sake of your mother and I. The pack must stay together...."

"...Because the pack can only fall if it fights amongst itself." Arya repeated as the words were on the tip of Sansa's tongue.

What was going on?!

"Now be off with you both. Your mother and I have matters to discuss."

And just like that the two sisters curtsied and left their fathers solar.

No sooner was the door shut then Sansa reeled around to grab Arya's shoulder.

"What the seven are you playing at Horse face? We both know your no lady of Winterfell."

Arya's eyes were wet with tears as she struggled under her older sisters grip.

Sansa's heart ached and she wondered if she was truly right to hurt her sister as she was.

But why wasn't she in her rights? Her sister was obviously acting a fool to win their parents to her side. To steal them away from Sansa.

Arya grimaced in pain and Sansa was about to let up when a stronger hand grabbed her own and spun her round.

The slap echoed in the hall. Her cheek felt numb at first but quickly grew heavy with a painful stinging sensation that she swore encompassed her whole face.

"Who dares...." She began but got no more than two words out before another slap smacked into her other cheek.

The pain! Who had done this to her? Surely mother and father would have them flogged! Her vision was blurred with tears but the sound of her mothers voice stopped her cold.

"Sansa how could you! Assaulting your own sister and barely a moment after leaving your fathers solar no less." Catelyn Stark yelled at her.

"Mother you don't understand! Its Arya...She's...She's acting...why can't"

Her mother went to hit her again but thankfully her fathers voice sounded as he now exited the Solar.

"That's enough Cat."

Her father would save her. He was honorable and wouldn't stand violence done to his girl or anyone who was good within his kingdom. Surely he'd know!

Her mother lowered her hand and stepped away. Sansa could only sniffle as she attempted to dry the tears from her eyes.

Her father walked past her to grab Arya up as though she were baby Rickons age. Whispering soothing words that should have gone to her!

The sound of her sisters sobs though did break her heart and she wished she could take back this whole mess. She'd just been so angry!

"I think it best Sansa if you made yourself scarce around me self and your mother. A servant will bring you food for you take in your rooms. Tonight I dare say it pains me to look upon my own blood."

He was ashamed of her?!

More tears threatened to fall from her eyes but she kept them in. Instead she curtsied as best she could and darted off far away from her family as she could.

She didn't know where she was going or why but she found herself outside the entrance of the Crypts.

Why had she come here? What solace could the dead possibly offer her?

Deciding she would act the lady of Winterfell, she descended the steps and walked into the crypts. She'd gone some ways before she found herself near the final resting place of her uncle and Aunt. The brother and sister of Ned Stark. Brandon Stark and Lyanna Stark.

Except she wasn't alone.

"Sansa?" It was her bastard half brother, Jon Snow.

Sansa didn't know what to do, maybe she simply thought him so far beneath her that she didn't need fear letting her facade fall.

Her tears spilled from her eyes and she launched herself into the arms of her fathers bastard.

He froze for a moment before he began to soothingly run his hand along her back in calming motions as her body gradually ceased to shake. Her sobs lessened as he whispered words like honey.

"Its alright Sansa....Its alright sweetling."

But it wasn't alright!

Father and Mother had been duped into believing Arya over her. The way Arya got on with their bastard half-brother it wouldn't surprise her if he too spurned her.

"Mother....hic...and Father, she's got them wrapped around her little finger Jon. She put a needle on my chair, smears horse shit on my new clothes."

He kept rubbing her back and she found she didn't want to leave this embrace.

"Aye Sansa I'd heard about that. Mayhaps they really could have fallen from servants basket while back from washing?"

Sansa rubbed her face on Jon's chest, the clothes he wore absorbing her tears and undoubtedly some snot that leaked from her nose.

"Your smarter than that Jon. We both know she hates me......why I can't fathom but she does...."

Jon brought a hand to her waist and held her close. Sansa could feel a heat building within her at this intimate touch. It didn't feel like the times Rob had hugged her nor did it

send waves of apprehension like when she would catch sight of Theon Greyjoy's gaze. The Ward of the Iron Islands desired her.

"She doesn't know you well enough. Give it time sweetling, She'll see what I see..."

This was a curious development indeed. She turned her head up to look at him, their faces inches apart.

"What do you see Jon?" She asked conscious that his hold on her tightened somewhat. She felt reassured in the moment but dare not trust her hearts expectations. Her father and mother had tarnished them so why not the bastard she'd scorned? Surely he'd have some vile thing to say to her now in her moment of utmost weakness.

"I see a strong confidant young woman who any man would fight a dragon for."

A mute point considering that dragons hadn't existed for nearly a century but she liked the spirit of the word none the less. It made her think of a knight galloping forth to bestow the honor of love and beauty.

"A woman who's passion burns as hot as her hair but shames us all with her graceful nature."

She looked into his eyes and felt like she could get lost within them. His words had stopped her heart with sincerity behind them. Truly she'd never expected anything like this from a man who might as well be a stranger. Her mother never failed to remind her that Jon was a shame upon their house, upon her mothers honor and like all bastards would covet what was not his own.

"Thank you Jon." She said with newfound tears streaming down her face as she hugged his body to her own in a tight embrace.

"Twas nothing milady." Jon said with a smirk upon his face. She found the charming smile of his to be contagious as the pox as she too felt the edges of her mouth lift upward.

He leaned forward to press his forehead to the top of her own and for a moment it was blissful silence.

"Jon. Do you want to know what I see?"

She felt Jon tense but he did not pull from her.

"Whatever could someone like you see in bastard like me Sansa?" He asked the question devoid of joy or pride. Sullen and unsure of his words or himself.

Had she done this? Surely Ned Stark treated his bastard better than any lord she'd heard of but that had not been true of Sansa's mother. Catelyn Stark never stopped to remind the bastard of Winterfell of his nature or whisper words against him when the family gathered. Ned didn't care for the talk, same as Rob or Arya but not her. Sansa realized with horror that she'd rejected Jon at every turn simply because she'd tried to curry favor with her mother.

The red marks upon her face showed where that path had lead.

Jon was looking away from her now, his posture and mood like that of dog kicked one too many times.

She realized she didn't like this version of Jon Snow. She wanted the fearless knight that saw her as a graceful lady.

"I see a strong young wolf that's been through more pain than any I well know. A soul full of more kindness and honor than sense at times but who is a greater man than some who call themselves Lords."

Jon seemed taken aback and stumbled over his words.

"Sansa...thats not me...I'm just..."

"A bastard?" Sansa finished.

His eyes became clouded and she felt him tense like cornered animal waiting to pounce.

Oh no! If she threw him away now then she would be all alone with her grief.

A stray thought invaded her mind like white walkers over the wall in Old Nan's tales.

"Jon. Do you trust me?"

"Aye."

"Close your eyes Jon."

He didn't ask why he should close them but he did so. Sansa felt her heart beating like mad inside her chest, she wondered how Jon couldn't hear it echoing off the Crypt's walls.

She breathed in and then out to calm her nerves before she brought her lips to his.

A chaste kiss from a high born girl was the greatest happiness any bastard could hope for in this world.

His eyes flew open to meet her own as she continued to kiss him. His hand moved from her waist to her bottom as she likewise held him close.

A chaste kiss was forgotten as she felt his tongue meet her own. It startled her. She'd never kissed anyone before and she'd felt Jon must be the same. At ten and five name days though that was obviously foolish of her.

Their tongues danced and felt an ache between her thighs grow as she explored Jon's mouth and welcomed him the same with reckless abandon. Perhaps Theon wouldn't look at her if he knew she'd rather have her bastard brother over any spawn the Iron Islands could produce.

Brother.

She felt his hand upon one of her breasts, only fabric between his fingers and her budding yet small chest.

She broke the kiss in that moment and held her to him.

"Do you feel better now?"

Jon's mind must have cleared because he suddenly looked ashamed.

Sansa frowned. She reached forward with whatever courage she could muster and grasped Jon between his legs, something hard and rigid in the shape of sausage found her grasp.

Jon gasped.

"Sansa! Wha...ohh...what are you..."

"Making you feel better Jon. Making up for all those moments when I was unkind...let me be kind to you Jon. Please." She begged as she looked in the eye.

"Sansa...its wrong...we can't...your my sister."

She didn't have the heart to tell him how she didn't see him the same. They'd spoken only a few words to one another in all twelve of the years she'd been alive. Even as babies!

Catelyn Stark had well and truly severed the bonds of family between Sansa and Jon but Sansa doubted her mother would have been so quick to the task if she'd known where it may lead.

Where was that exactly? She'd had her first kiss and felt a man's touch upon her body. It wouldn't go any further for her but thankfully her friend Jeyne Pool had told her of scandalous things she'd seen Theon get up to with a whore named for a flower. Sansa couldn't remember the name and didn't care to. That woman was beneath her and Jon wouldn't want anything to do with such women anyway. Right?

His head found the crook of her neck as he leaned into her. Hunched somewhat as her hand finally pulled Jon's length from his trousers.

Her eyes widened.

Did men really expect to fit those inside her? She'd break!

Her hand grew slick with some sort of fluid that could be sweat but didn't feel anything like the sort. It made it easier to grasp Jon's length however and and soon she felt Jon's breathing coming out in rasps.

She kissed his ear and whispered to her bastard brother. "Put your hands back on me, Knight Snow."

She gasped as she felt his lips upon her neck and was startled when she felt his hand snake up her dress to cup her breast. Playing with one then another as his other hand cupped her bottom . She put a hand behind Jon's head to keep him from pulling away, which was for not as he kissed the nape of her neck.

Their breathing and kissing continued to fill the crypt as Jon finally seemed to freeze and the jerk suddenly.

Sansa felt something wet coat her fingers as Jon practically collapsed against her.

With some effort she pushed him back against the wall to lean against a crypt of some long dead Stark she should remember but couldn't.

Jon looked up at her with wide fearful eyes as he saw her raise her hand that had been around his member. It was covered in a white thick substance, almost reminiscent of cream.

Looking for herself to Jon she realized their wasn't anywhere to wipe the offending liquid off.

Wonder what it tastes like? If it came from him can it really be that bad? IF nothing else Joffrey will want a queen who knows how to please him.

Bringing her right hand to her lips she gave one last look at Jon before she stuck out her tongue and licked her finger.

It tasted of salt but wasn't altogether completely unpleasant. She ran her tongue around the whole of her hand before gazing back down at Jon. His shrunken member had regrown from watching her and it filled Sansa with satisfaction.

"The Septa may already be searching for me if Catelyn hasn't had a change of heart but I doubt it. Jon...thank you for this. It wasn't my intention but I'm glad it happened....are you?"

Jon looked at her and didn't say anything. His mouth opened but no words came.

He hates you! He thinks your lustful dragon whore.

Her mind raced with humiliations and suddenly she felt such terrible shame. Shame at what he must think of her mixed with pain in her chest that surely must be her heart breaking at his rejection. Her half brothers rejection hurt her more than if Joffrey had come to Winterfell to take Arya as a bride.

She turned and ran as fast as she could out of the crypts. Jon calling after her to stop but she couldn't face him.

That night she took her super in her rooms, hopeful that Jon would come to her. But no one came and neither mother or father had asked where she'd been. Not even the Septa had asked how she'd spent her time. It was like she'd become a ghost.

When the candles went out for the night she thought of all she'd experienced with Jon. The feel of his lips and the touch of his hands upon her body. Her body became too hot so she'd kicked off the blankets and stripped away her small clothes til she was but in a shift. She'd removed that too so as to lay back down and touch herself where Jon had touched her.

When her hand found a delicate spot between her thighs, she worked herself into a sweaty mess until her back arched and Jon's name left her lips. For several moments saw stars as waves of pleasure washed over her before she collapsed upon her bed. The sheets wet with sweat and an unfamiliar aroma pervaded the room.

Pulling the covers back over herself she shut her eyes and drifted off to a deep slumber. A smile on her face as she dreamed of a knight bestowing the title of Queen of Love and Beauty upon her. In all her dreams she'd imagined what Joffrey must look like but now the face of the Knight was Jon Snow


	2. Jon I

JON I: Winterfell

Jon snow ducked and weaved around Theon as he managed to parry yet still more blows, the Greyjoy ward raining down upon him with some zeal. 

Or maybe it was all in his head? He'd thought of nothing else but Sansa these past three days and somehow the world around him seemed different. Changed.

The way her lips had tasted on his own, the way she'd taken charge of him. Practically grabbed him by his manhood and had her way with him even!

It was unheard of, though deep down he knew he didn't know his sister as well as he should. If it all. Before he'd always contented himself with staring from afar, telling himself the whispers of attraction where but those of a brother 'loving' their sibling. 

The kiss hadn't been one of sibling love. Not even close.

Pain sprang up in his wrist, hearkening him back to the world outside his fantasies. The same world where he nor his sister had spoken but a handful of words to one another in the span of three moons.

"Your getting rusty eh bastard?" Theon Japed. More a question than statement. 

The training yards were his home, the place he ought not feel less a Stark than any other that ruled from Winterfell nor the noble knights that served them. 

His sword lay on the ground. Theon had managed to break through his guard and disarm him with a well positioned knock on his wrist. 

Had Theon and Jon truly gone at one another, he'd have lost a hand. 

A cripple and a bastard. Who would want him then? He thought darkly as he looked from his sword to Theon before his eyes settled on the man beside the Greyjoy Ward. 

Rob Stark. Heir to Winterfell and Ned and Catelyn Stark true born son. The man he called his brother. The man he loved as a brother even if they shared seed but not a womb. 

"Jon what troubles you? Your not one to lose to Theon so easily." Rob asked in worried tones.

"Aye." Theon pipped up. Staring at him alongside Rob. 

Do they know? Did his face reveal his shame? 

"Just not feeling it today is all. Mayhaps I'll find a clearer head if we...visited Rose?" He provided. 

The two boys opposite him had looks that could not be more different than noble silks and small folk rags. 

Theon sported a grin that reached his eyes and then some. 

"Now come now Jon. Can't have you taking an Iron Born's salt wife...wouldn't be proper. Would you even know how to please a girl?" Theon japed.

Jon thought of the feel of Sansa's breasts, the sound of her heavy breathing against the nape of his neck. His small clothes suddenly felt all the smaller beneath his waist. 

"Come now Jon. This isn't like you. Did something happen?" Rob asked all serious and inquiring. Truly the true born son of the lord of Winterfell. 

Jon could be the Starkest Stark that ever lived, he could breath honor and shit integrity til the long winter came and went. 

Bastard. 

Something caught Theon's gaze as he looked up at someone standing on the balcony overlooking the training yard. 

Jon's back remained to the onlooker until he heard Theon utter the words.

"Good day lady Sansa. Come to watch true born heirs best the brooding Snow of Winterfell?" 

Theon wanted to say bastard! It was their, Jon was sure. But with Rob in the yard, the ward dare not say the words. No matter their truth.

He turned to look at Sansa as she smiled. 

By the gods old and new, he felt like he could stare at her face til he was as old as the maester. 

She seemed to be looking at him but he dare not hope too much. Surely she was as ashamed as he?

"Maybe my brother has taken ill. What other reason could their be for 'you' besting him with a sword?" She said to everyone's surprise.

She'd never called him brother. Least not before the crypts. Never in front of anyone else. 

Had the world gone mad? Truly it must. His heart beat quicker and he found himself smiling ever wider now. 

He looked into her eyes and he swore he felt himself a giant amongst men now. 

Turning around he took in the sight of poor Theon looking crestfallen while Rob's eyebrows threatened to retreat back up into the mop of hair atop his head. 

"Right. My sister speaks the truth. Lets have another go Greyjoy." 

Theon looked at him and then back up at Sansa. The Iron born was crestfallen with all hint of goading gone from his person. 

"Alright bastard. Lets show Lady Sansa how far you've fallen." Theon said. 

"Enough of that Theon. Jon's my brother even if he isn't true-born. Men make mistakes in war, no sense blaming him for it." Rob scolded.

Mistakes? Was that truly what Rob thought of him. A brother surely but not one that should grace the halls of Winterfell or take from their good nature. 

The clothes on his back. The sword and knowledge to swing it true. The smaller and less kept room away from the rest of them. 

All from a mistake. 

Would his mother think him that? Was that why she wasn't here? Why Ned hadn't simply left him with whatever set of legs bore him?

Jon grit his teeth and took position opposite Greyjoy, perhaps five or ten good paces. 

He turned to glance at Sansa and found her smile gone. A frown adorning her face. 

He ought to question why but when she nodded her head he knew it was her way of rooting for him. 

They began just as they had done so a good handful of times already. Faints and blocks. Strikes deflected and parried. 

Theon raised his sword but Jon found he didn't care what the little shit Iron born thought of him. What the ward of Starks wanted to happen. 

Sansa had cheered, his sister had actually cheered him on and told him without speaking to put the Iron born in his place. 

She called me brother! She's mine not yours you pampered prick!

Jon smashed his sword into Theon's every attack with more determination then he'd shown these past few days if ever. 

When Jon circled around so that he could better see his sister, he caught sight of Sansa's smile again. 

He looked up at her and played the fool as Theon lunged forward only for Jon to step to the side and jab his pommel into Theon's chest in a swift uppercut that knocked the wind from Greyjoy. 

Jon watched as Theon fell forward and vomited onto some nearby straw as he struggled to rise but finally remained on his hands and knees liked a cowed animal that had been set in his place. 

"What the fuck Jon!. Theon are you ok?!" Rob asked as he went to his friend. Patting his friend on the back in comfort as he tried to get Theon to rise. 

Jon looked down at the sight and wondered how Rob was so quick to forget the man vomiting onto the training ground was in fact a prisoner. Had been since he was but a little boy, carted off here to keep the Iron Island of Balon Greyjoy mindful of their place. 

The clapping startled all three men. 

Jon turned to see Sansa clapping for him!

"Good job putting that Iron born in his place brother. The Iron Islands can't compare to the North after all." She said before turning and walking off before either Jon or Rob could respond. 

Theon managed to stand, shrugging off Rob's help and bolting for somewhere away from the training yard or any of its Lord's children. True born or otherwise.

Jon swore he saw the boys face caked with tears as he ran off. 

Without Sansa or his own anger to push him onward, he felt a pang of regret rise up deep within himself. He was the son of Ned Stark. He should have won the duel with skill and honor instead of a cheap jab. 

And Sansa! 

She'd acted toward Theon as her mother would toward him. 

He much preferred the innocent sweetling absorbed in tales of knights and tourneys. He went to go after Sansa when a hand caught his shoulder and spun him. 

Robs face was a mask of anger as he looked down at Jon. 

"What in the Seven were you thinking Jon! Theons our friend. Your and mine. We may as well be blood for all the years we've known him!"

"Oh piss off Rob, you didn't have any trouble with him calling me bastard but a moment ago. Course you think me a mistake so why would it." Jon spat at him. 

Comprehension dawned on Rob as the heir to Winterfell surely now grasped the words he'd spoken to Jon. 

In a calmer tone he spoke.

"Look...Jon. I'm sorry. It was wrong of me to speak of you as I did. You are my fathers bastard true enough but you've always been my brother. Theon may not be a Stark but we've grown up together and broke fast together." Rob explained. 

But Robs telling of events wasn't true for Jon. It was a half truth at best.

"Aye. I've watched you sit up at the table in front of all the lords and nobles while I sat back to eat my fill. Off in a corner while that Iron Islander sit right next to you." 

He jabbed his finger at Rob now.

"Your my blood Rob. The Same blood flows through me as it does you, yet Theon sits besides you at the head table like an equal."

Rob became irritated with Jon now.

"Is that what this is about? Your brooding over my mother not wanting you at the table when we take our meals! You've sulked these past three days and seen fit to strike Theon, our friend, over a fucking chair and some harsh words?!" Rob shouted at him.

Jon could only glare. He knew if he said much more he might find himself in their fathers solar, Catelyn looking for any excuse to be rid of him.

But Rob wasn't done.

"First Sansa harms Arya and now you've done the same to Theon. Whatever has come over you two, it stops now or I'll have words with father about you both. Our sister is a lady of Winterfell, she can't be acting like...."

"Like what Rob? A bastard?!" 

"You damn well know that's not what I was going to say Jon." 

But he couldn't handle anymore of Robs words, least of all where they concerned Sansa. 

He walked off leaving his brother to go in search of Theon. 

He probably ran off to that whore he thinks loves him for something other than his coin. The fool!

Jon walked backed to his chambers and opened the door to a most unexpected sight. 

Sansa sitting on his bed, her hands fidgeting with the fabric of her dress. 

"Sansa....I..."

She looked up at him and smiled. 

"Please shut the door Jon. I won't be long but I'd rather no one else hears us speak."

She doesn't want to be seen talking with me. The thought intruded from the shadows of his mind but he pushed it away and closed the door as she asked.

She rose from the bed and was in his arms the moment the door shut. A warm embrace as her hands wrapped around him and she pressed herself against his body. 

She brought her head back to look at him but remained clinging to his person all the same.

"I...I wanted to speak to you these past few days but whenever I thought I knew what I might say, words deserted me Jon. Mother and Father haven't seen fit to trouble me...not with Arya wrapping them around her finger with her mummers farce." 

Jon listened but decided to actually speak now that he had had the time to mull over that day in the crypts.

"Aye. I've wanted to speak to you as well. Every day when I saw you around the castle or when we passed each other in the halls. Every night when I shut my eyes I think of what we did Sansa....by the gods old and new I think of you in my dreams." 

She smiled up at him. The sweet innocent smile of a girl on the cusp of ten and three name days. Not a girl but not yet a woman bled. 

"Jon....I've done much the same. I've watched from the table at supper and wished mother and father would let you eat amongst us like the Stark you are, if only so we'd be closer to one another."

She took his hand in her own and Jon felt she surely must feel the sweat on his palms. The nervous tremor that snaked through his whole body at her mere touch. 

"Except I'm the bastard Sansa...father would never..." He begins but she lunges forward and captures his lips with her own. 

Her tongue probes the entrance of his mouth and he steels himself to not return her affections. Its the hardest battle he's ever fought and he fear he may lose it still.

She's your sister! You share a father! 

She stops and pulls back. 

Jon can only sigh in relief.

"Why aren't you kissing back?"

"What do you mean why? Sansa we are brother and sister....what we're doing....by the seven, what we've done already. Its a sin." He pleads with her. 

His arms come around her to take hold of her but she breaks free and backs away. 

Jon feels his heart ache. 

"Its hard. I won't pretend it isn't. We should never have done what we did in the crypts amongst the dead. It was shameful to carry on as we did amongst the dead." He says.

"But we aren't amongst the dead now." Sansa replies. 

"True enough but that ain't the point. We are blood...."

"So Where the Targaryens Jon. Can it really be so wrong to explore these feelings before father marries us off."

"I'm not getting married." He says. 

Who would want me? A bastard of the most honorable man in the seven kingdoms. 

"What? I'm sure father could ask his friend...the king of all seven kingdoms, to legitimize you."

"Right! As though your mother would ever allow such a thing. She'd sooner see me taken ill by the reaper or a knife in the back."

Sansa's face grows hot with anger now.

"I don't care what mother wants! Your as much a Stark as I....better even.....far better."

Jon can only stare at her stunned before she continues.

"Those dreams you have of me? Am I as I am now or....." She pulls the dress off herself and tosses it onto Jon's bed. 

Jon can only stare mouth agape like a fish gasping for air. Their stands Sansa Stark. Her body bare save for the shift that shields her lower half. 

Drawing in a breath, Sansa reaches and unfastens the shift as well so that she's as naked as her name day. 

"Am I like this Jon? Because your this way in my dreams. Sometimes though your wearing wearing armor, so kind and charming that you put every knight of old to shame."

"....Sansa please....put your clothes back on....if someone sees us."

"They won't see Jon. I don't want them to see this side of me....only you. My heart is pounding in my chest...am...am I not to your liking?" She asks a tremble in her voice that pulls at Jon's heart and soul.

"Sweetling your more beautiful than any woman could ever be." He says the words without contemplation. The Truth comes easily to him.

He feels himself harden at the sight of her. At the sight of her whole body on display before him. Her small breasts with hardened peaks draw his gaze before he take in every detail of her unblemished pale skin, a patch a red hair growing between her long and shapely legs. 

"Sansa please...."

Sansa seems to contemplate something before looking at the floor and then back up at him. 

"Let me see you Jon. Please. Its only fair."

"Nothings fair about this...nothings fair about you being my sister and these cursed feelings that run through me like wildfire."

She walks over to him before he can raise his hands to stop her and takes his right hand in her own and places it against her chest above her heart. 

"Your heart's beating like a drum!" He says mesmerized before she places a hand on his still clothed chest.

"Let me feel you Jon. Please. Show me that your heart doesn't race as mine does and I'll leave you be."

Indecision weighs on him but the look of pleading in Sansa's eyes is too much for him. 

He removes her hand from his chest and pulls back his own. 

A look of hurt crosses Sansa's faces, water pooling at the edges of her eyes. 

Jon can't look at her when shes like this. 

She'll see me for what I am and begone. He tells himself the honeyed words.

He leans forward and plants a kiss on her forehead. 

She blinks her eyes as tears streak down her cheeks.

He wipes them away with his thumb before holding her to him for a brief moment.

"Alright."

He walks to his bed and begins to remove his boots. 

Sansa watches him and it makes him feel anxious. Does she like what she's seeing? Should he even care about that? 

Remarkably he finds that he does care. He cares that Sansa will see him at his most vulnerable. Bared to the world. 

The shirt comes next to be followed by the pants. When he's down to but his shift, he simply breathes air into his lungs and lets the loin cloth fall to the ground besides Sansa's own undergarments. 

He stands and looks at Sansa. Conscious of his erect member. 

He's spellbound as Sansa looks him up and down as though he were a cut of meat before she licks her lips.

"Your beautiful too!"

Jon blushes himself now. 

Sansa walks forward, face blushing like a strawberry, hastening to add. 

"Handsome I mean! Yes handsome!" She squeaks out flustered.

He smiles at her and gives a small chuckle at her embarrassment. 

She's cute when she's tripping over her words. He thinks.

Finally she reaches out and places her hand on his heart while he does much the same. 

He knows that if her heart is beating like a drum than his own must surely feel as though every horse in the stables has broken loose to gallop across the north. 

"Your heart betrays you Jon Stark." Sansa says as her fingers draw circles lazily upon his chest. He returns the gesture by cupping her breast. 

Jon stares into Sansa's eyes and leans into the kiss he'd denied himself not a moment before. 

Their lips meet and its as though they'd never left the crypts. 

As their tongues battle for dominance, bodies pressing together, Jon feels Sansa's hand wrap around his member once more. 

He decides to reach between her legs and feels her hair there to be slick with wetness. Rubbing against her most precious spot elicits small moans of encouragement as she works him toward his own release. 

"Oh Jon! Please.....Faster....Please...." 

"Sansa....your the most beautiful woman in all the kingdoms....I don't deserve you. I'm a bastard brother...but gods Sansa I want you. Curse me for all my days Sweetling I cannot turn from this." Jon belts out as he feels himself building to release. 

He feels a small bump beneath the hair between Sansa's legs and rubs upon it like a precious jewel. 

Sansa gasps and pulls herself back to shudder before moaning into the nape of Jon's neck as her legs shake uncontrollably and she collapses against his chest. One last stroke sends him spiraling and a thick white stream lands on his bedroom floor.

They fall back onto his bed and lay pressed against each other. Thankfully she wipes her hand on his bedding rather than tasting him once more. He isn't sure he could kiss her after words. 

How does she taste though?

He brings the hand that had been upon her sex, to his mouth. He sniffed it before licking his fingers and tasting Sansa as she had him. 

Sansa's face matches her hair and she looks scandalized at the sight of him. 

Most unladylike indeed he thinks with a chuckle. What would Catelyn say? 

Damn it! Catelyn! 

Rob had probably found Theon and was coming to have words with him if he hadn't already spoken to Lady Stark about the trouble in the yard. 

"Your hearts beating like a wild beast Jon." Sansa says as she places her head against his chest. Her naked body draped over his own.

He realizes with a start that he'd give anything to not be Stark at this moment. To be some high born lords prodigy from a respectable Northern family with Sansa as his betrothed. The image of them as husband and wife almost stops him from making her leave.

Almost.

"Sweetling. You should get out of here before Rob comes looking to have words with me about Theon."

She nods before leaning in and kissing him on the lips in a deep kiss that has his member rising for another round. 

"Your right of course. If Mother and Arya don't find me sulking in my room they'll come looking for me."

She takes his hand in hers and looks him in the eye and he feels like he's completely exposed. Like a soldier without armor or sword to his person.

"Do you regret this?"

He doesn't have to think before the words spill from his lips and he captures her in another embrace. Her whole body presses against his own and he wishes for the hundredth time that she was not Sansa Stark and he Jon Snow.

"Never will I regret a single moment with you love." 

Her eyes go wide and she pulls away from the kiss with a look of absolute contentment. 

He watches her as she get off the bed and leans down to collect her clothes. He drinks in every detail of her body like a man wasting away in the deserts of Dorn. 

When shes fully clothed she goes to the doorway before racing back to him to lean down and place kiss atop his head. 

"See you at supper, Love."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will have a chapter dealing with things from Robs perspective up shortly. Any ideas or thoughts are welcome as always. Right now I'm trying to make Jon and Sansa this gradually escalating thing that spirals out of control over time. Any thoughts on how you think characters will react to revelation of Jon/Sansa? 
> 
> Hope everyone is having a good weekend.


	3. Rob I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rob comes back from arranging trade deals with the River Lands. Arya begins to suspect something is not right.

ROB: I WINTERFEL

Rob Stark. The true born heir of the castle which he entered earlier in the day through the main gate could not suppress his look of puzzlement as he listened to his young sister plead her case to him. 

"She's used magic on him, Rob. Told father already but he doesn't believe me" She protested as she puffed herself up in faux outrage. 

Rob hadn't been back in Winterfell for very long. He'd seen the castle walls rising from a distance as he made his way home after conferring with the River-lands, his mothers house for which he himself held a minor claim. 

The talks had been a greater boon than he could have hoped for and couldn't wipe the smirk from his face when he told his lord father the news. Perhaps they would all get luckier still and the Winter should last no more than a handful of name days. Then with the blessing of the gods old and new, (and Rob had no reason to think otherwise!), they could reap a bounty of a summer stretching nine-name days once more. 

Arya kept talking but Rob simply continued to nod. He'd been cross with his bastard brother since Jon had taken to assaulting the Norths Ward, Theon Greyjoy. 

But he wasn't just a ward. He was Robs friend! As true a friend as any Lord to be could ever hope for. Once Theon sat upon the Salt throne, Rob dreamed of the day they would march north beyond the wall and settle the haunted forests. Swatting away grumpkins and Snarks. Taming the wildlings to kneel as was proper of people to do before their betters. 

Edmure Tully had heard of his hopes for the future but had feigned to listen as he now did for his sister. 

No Edmure had introduced him to various holdfasts and small liege lords within the Riverlands. Lords with Daughters. 

Try as he might though, the auburn red hair on some of the prettier girls made him forget his lower half and fall ill in the pit of his stomach. 

To bed them would remind him too much of Sansa. Even if he took them from behind it wouldn't matter, they'd turn round and his mind would betray him. 

Only the most depraved souls would covet kin. Anything to spawn from such a union would be an abomination!

"Rob!"

"Sorry, Arya. You were saying something about a harp?"

Arya just glared at him.

"No Rob! Not 'something', someone. Sansa's been teaching Jon how to play the harp!" 

Rob couldn't think of anything more queer a notion than the image of Jon Snow playing the harp. 

"Maybe Jon's done something to make her cross and this is fathers way of teaching Jon a lesson." He supplied. 

"Father didn't know anything til I said something and Sansa refused to stop when Mother asked it of her. Shes up to something Rob, I can feel it!" 

How could his sister think such a thing of Sansa? Their sister had interacted with Jon least of any of them. One could count their encounters on a single hand, not too long ago. 

"I'll be sure to ask Jon about it." He declared before he felt himself the fool. 

"Arya. You know Jon is to have is name day soon. At Ten and Six, Jon Snow is a man."

"So? Whats that got to do with anything?"

"When a boy becomes a man....he changes. He looks at girls differently but they pay him little heed if he is not handsome."

"Like it Sansa's stupid fairy-tales?" Arya asked quizzically. Comprehension dawning on her.

"Exactly!" Rob exclaims, happy his sister isn't slow to realize the truth of the world. He continues on.

"If your not handsome or a Lord, you must find something that makes you stand above the rest of the men and nurse it within yourself. Course even if the Gods grace you with looks you'll never wash the stain of being a bastard from yourself. Only a King can do that." 

Arya blanches and her face grows red as she stares back at him.

"Don't call him that! He's our brother! Same as Rickon or Bran."

Rob sighs.

"I know that Arya. Believe me I wish Jon and I could charge into battle together. Wish he'd take a keep for himself and pledge fealty to House Stark under his own sigil."

Arya's eye's lit up with the picture he was painting. The fantasy he was painting. He wished more than anything it could be true. 

With Theon and Jon by his side, he was sure the North could surpass all the Southron houses. For They in the South were summer children all when placed next to the people of the North. 

"But." Rob began. 

"I don't like Butts" Started Arya.

Rob ignored her and continued on. She had to hear this.

"Jon isn't a true-born Stark. He's a bastard of a great house but half our banners would desert us than follow bastards commands."

"You could make them!" Arya replied. 

Would that he could but only a fool pushed his vassals too hard. 

"When Fathers gone I'll need to do a great many things I don't wish for but must, for the good of the North. For our house.

The Houses of Bolton and Karstark will not have Jon any more than Mormonts or Umbers. Jon's spoken of the watch..."

"He's what! No! Jon can't leave! He has to stay here with us." Arya yelled, panicked at the thought of losing their half brother to a grave atop a wall meant for the worst sort of folk both big and small." 

"He's only spoken of it once or twice with myself. Hasn't been himself as of late.....and its obvious why."

Arya was glued to his every word. Rob couldn't help but smile and reach to ruffle his sisters hair before she could maneuver away from his grasp. 

She tried to act affronted but Rob saw her smile.

"Jon not being of respected birth doesn't preclude him a trip to meet ladies who are...." 

"Whores." Arya said simply.

"Arya!" Rob exclaimed looking the part of both cross and taken aback.

"Its what they are. Hear Theon prattle on about em, sometimes he even sneaks them into his rooms when he thinks no one the wiser. That what you mean?"

Rob suddenly felt less sure about stopping Jon from thrashing his greatest friend. 

"Forget about Theon. Why does Jon need to spend time with stupid boring Sansa? I'm afraid I'll come to find him gathered with the ladies stitching under Septa Mordane."

Rob tried to picture Jon sewing and he couldn't hold the hearty laugh that rose from him. 

"More a chance of dragons flying than Jon bent over needle and thread." Rob joked. 

Arya smiled at the picture he was painting her. 

"But most girls enjoy a good tune, double so if you can play an instrument such as the harp."

"But why does it have to be Sansa?! Jon is supposed to be on my side same as its always been." 

Arya had won a bout with Sansa a few moons back that seemed to have torn apart the natural order of Winterfell. Or the order Arya had been comfortable with. 

Eventually Sansa returned to the sewing circles and gossip of her fellow noble ladies of the North. Jeyne Poole among them.

Yet his fair elder sister had not returned to the fold the same. Less than a moons worth of days had seen Sansa call Jon brother, speaking to the bastard she'd shunned as though they'd always been close. 

It warmed Robs heart to see Sansa finally coming out of her shell and making decisions for herself but he frowned when thinking of Theon. Sansa had since the day at the training yard, been cold or aloof when it came to the Greyjoy heir. 

"Sansa is a high born lady. Probably the most refined lady in the north. Would you wish to train with a sword you wouldn't take the word of any jumped up sell-sword would you?" 

"Course not! You'd squire for a knight or ask a known master at arms like Sir Rodrik." Arya replied as though he was dense.

Rob smiled and brought his reasoning home.

"Music will charm the clothes off a woman almost as fast as drink or coin. Its not proper but it may be the best hope Jon has. Suppose he finds someone for himself and forgets all about the wall."

Arya screwed up her face in concentration, eyes darting back and forth as her gaze attempted to stare beneath the floor of Winterfell. Finally she looked up into his eyes and held a new look of cheer. 

" Sansa is sickeningly proper when it comes to being a 'lady'. Guess if anyone could show Jon useless garbage to draw girls, its her." She hugged him then and took off in search of their bastard half brother. 

Rob went in search of Theon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanting to do Jon and Sansa chapters but felt like new perspectives would help.


	4. Sansa II

She could scarcely believe the time had come and gone since her last name day, yet as she awoke Sansa knew she was older. 

She felt it in her bones, in every twitch of muscle and observed glance sent her way. She was Sansa Stark, the eldest daughter of the greatest man to ever preside over Winterfell. 

Ned Stark

Honorable. 

Kind. 

And she was his second child....

Third.

she reminded herself as she pushed the furs from her body and rose from her bed. The early warning air wafting into the room.

She bit back a shiver but approached the mirror, a priceless gift from skilled craftsmen, bedecked in metal and glass of a finery she'd never seen save for White Harbor. 

Arya and even Jeyne may call her craven but Sansa liked to look at herself. 

To imagine herself atop an iron chair holding court while her brave lord husband made war upon all the skulking shadows hiding in darkness. 

She went to the bit of fabric that held her night clothes together, nothing more than a long dress and a shift. The knot came loose and the pale blue fabric slid from her body. 

Her shift was next. 

Gazing at herself in the mirror she found that in the time since her parents had sent her into Jon's arms, she'd grown up. 

She'd yet to bleed. Thank the Seven!

But it wouldn't be off for much longer. 

Her breasts had grown but still seemed much too small for a noble lady like herself to lure someone like Joffrey to her side. 

Jon likes them just fine. She thought with reassurance, squeezing them together to appear larger. 

She'd taken care to be discreet but her and Jon's rendezvous had become somewhat frequent. They kissed one another and were as intimate as lovers but always stopped short. 

A part of her wished it wasn't so. Wished she could take Jon as her betrothed. 

Her brother had learned the Harp of all things! 

A mischievous smile crossed Sansa's face as she remembered the look on Arya's face when she'd caught them playing Harps outside the castle walls. Jeyne and all her friends had  
been enraptured by the sad melody Jon could work into his music even when the song was a joyous one. 

Rob and Theon had snickered at him to no end but that had died once Sansa had asked father if she could join Jon at the back tables to break their fast. 

Father had a queer look in his eye as he looked from her to Jon and for but a moment Sansa's whole being seemed to plummet through the depths of the floor with worry. Did her father know about how his children had gotten on? 

Whatever came over her father passed in the blink of an eye. Sansa now wondered if she'd imagined it all. The stress of nerves born from fear of discovery.

She'd sat besides Jon and made a point to speak to him about their shared love of the Dragon riders. 

Well to be more plain, his love of dragon riders and the battles of Aegon the Conqueror. 

Sansa would jump in about some fact or other related to great works of art or the dashing bravery of men riding beasts to slay cruel men. 

The family that had made Westeros....well...Westeros!

When they'd both gotten up to depart from the meal, they'd said their thanks to their family and scurried off. 

To an abandoned tower they'd found in the oldest part of the keep. Once there they'd found themselves without clothes and couldn't keep their hands or lips off one another. 

She'd been absolutely craven with lust though and taken all of Jon's seed in her mouth. 

He'd held her close and kissed her nose before retreating to put his lips between her thighs. 

Sansa became hot with need as she felt a pang of want blossom between her legs as she stood naked in front of the mirror. Her hand began to sink toward her mound but stopped short as the door to her chambers came open. 

"Good morning my lady I....." but Septa paused as she took in the sight of her charge naked and seemingly staring at herself. 

Sansa didn't rush to cover herself as she knew she should. She was mortified, heart pounding in her chest.

If I should say or do anything that makes her believe I was being improper, mother will surely hear of it. 

Catelyn Stark didn't approve of her spending time with Jon. Almost mournfully realizing that by spurning Sansa she'd lost both her daughters to Jon Snow. 

The image of Arya doing anything with Jon caused a dull ache inside her. After the taste of bile came and went from her mouth at the thought of her sister and half brother. 

"Septa Mordan....am I alright?" She asked as she retrieved her discarded night clothes to give herself some modesty. 

"What ever do you mean child?" 

"Its just....well, mother and you always tell me how I am to be a proper lady to fetch a proper husband."

"That we do child." Septa agreed. 

Sansa made a show of turning and looking at herself from another angle before covering her nakedness. Her head now looked at the floor.

"What if my body isn't proper.....what if no man wants me...." 

The words fell from her lips with a quiver. The lie coming easier than it should. It scared her how easily a child of Ned Stark could fib to one they trusted. 

Septa Mordan rushed forward to bring Sansa into a firm hug, practically squeezing the life out of her before stepping back. 

The Septa cleared her throat and spoke. 

"Oh lady Sansa. Don't you worry, your still a maid yet. Long past your youngest days yes but these coming years are to be so full of changes."

"Will....Will they get bigger?" Sansa asked. Really truly she did wish her chest to be larger if only so Jon had more to grasp than the small mounds her body gifted her.

Septa Mordan's eyes went wide but then she coughed.

"Such thoughts are unbecoming of a lady of your station Lady Sansa. For a girl to care so much what a man thinks of her naked is the realm of whores and those lacking faith." The Septa chastised. 

For a moment Sansa looked away and felt small bits of both shame and anger. What did the old hag know of love?! She was not yet bled yet she'd known a man's touch...his love. 

The looks shared between her and Jon while they were alone were not out of place in the stories of the Targaryens. 

But they were Starks. 

Septa spoke again. Softer now. 

"I was here when your brothers came after you, tiniest babes you ever did see but appetites like giants." Sansa felt her eyes go wide, scandalized to hear the Septa use such language, especially to a Stark. 

"Aye, when the time came your mothers breasts were heavy with milk for her babes, including yourself. Can remember a maid who had been on some years saying that of all of Lady Stark's children, you were hungriest babe to suckle." 

Sansa felt mortified. She was glad to hear she'd grow larger breasts but to be told she'd been a glutton at the teat of her mother, made her sound like a lowborn. A lady should never eat more than she needs or is expected. That is what Septa and everyone who mattered in Winterfell told her. 

All save Arya. Because of course that was her sisters way. She may as well be a boy.

Her face nearly the color of her hair she begged the Septa to prepare a bath. Whispering her thanks to the older woman before she'd fully left the room. 

The only hint the Septa had heard was a moments pause before she left to fetch servants to prepare a bath. 

No sooner had the door shut however that her mother bid to enter her room. 

"Mother. Good morning." Sansa began. Her smile was forced as she could no longer look past how her mother treated Jon Snow. 

It made it easier to not feel responsible for what had been allowed to happen between, the divide built on mistrust and lies. 

Jon would never take Rob's claim to Winterfell. Then again if it wasn't for her mother she may never have done all she had with Jon. 

Doing what her and Jon did together with either Rob or Theon disgusted her. Theon wasn't even her blood but she'd known him since he was a boy and treated him better in a single day than all the days she'd known Jon before the crypts. Before his lips on hers. Before his flesh upon her own. 

Catelyn Stark knew none of this and cared not a bit about simply greeting her. 

Her mother pulled her into a hug just as the Septa had done. This one was gentle and filled with love. A special love Sansa supposed all mothers must surely have for their daughters. It made it hard for Sansa to keep hold of her anger. 

"My little girl, your practically a woman now. Ten and Three name days. My sweet daughter it wont be long before some lord....or prince comes asking for your hand." Catelyn beamed. The hug grew a little tighter now as though Catelyn didn't want Sansa to be gone from Wintefell quiet yet. 

"Thank you mother!" Sansa said now with warmth. She returned her mothers embrace and breathed in the smell of her mothers hair. Remembering all the times her mother had read stories to her when she was but five name days old. Wished she could recall the memories of her being carried around in her mothers arms at not but two name days. 

They stayed that way for a time before a knock sounded and her brother entered. 

Rob wore a smile that could charm the scales off a dragon. 

In his hands he held something wrapped in cloth. 

"Mother. Sister. Didn't know you'd both be up yet but since your both here I've brought Sansa a present for her name day."

"Rob. She's barely out of bed. Could it not have waited until she's at least dressed herself?!" their mother chastised. 

A sheepish look passed over Rob and he looked unsure for a moment. She still thought him an ass for defending the Greyjoy ward but he was her brother. 

"Its alright mother. What have you brought me Rob?" She asked, moving closer to Rob. 

"See for yourself" 

And she did. She reached out and pulled the brown cloth away to reveal a book. 

Her face lit up as she read the title. 

"The Adventures of Sir Dunk and Egg." She gasped. 

"Aye. Didn't come cheap though..." He explained with a wink. 

"Theirs something your not telling me Rob. What is it?" 

Their mother came forward to take the book and turn it over, examining its stitching. It seemed practically new. 

" Rob how much was this?" 

"More than I wished to spend but less than the joy at my sisters happiness" Rob retorted.

"But what does your sister mean when she says your keeping secrets from her? Come now Rob." Catelyn inquired. Sansa could tell that the divide between herself and Arya didn't cause alarm like that which she and Rob sometimes had now.

Rob sighed and his smile fell a fair bit.

"Its about Theon. If you'd have words with him or just a dance at the feast."

"My feast, Rob. I haven't danced with Theon since I was but ten name days. Not that I've any wish to do so now."

"Oh come off it Sansa. What do you have against him?" Rob asked.

Sansa suddenly wished she had this room to herself again. A sanctuary from the world outside. 

"Because....Because he looks at me."

Catelyn came to her side within an instant. 

"Looks at you how my child."

Sansa felt uncomfortable and one look at Robb's pleading eyes almost made her tell her mother not to worry herself.

But why should I suffer just so Robb's 'friend' can feel joy. 

The Iron born would sooner cut our throats than break bread with us. 

"He....He fancies me I think. Once I felt his eyes linger on me....and..." She looked away unable to continue. Not that she couldn't. Theon had looked at her for more time than any man who is not husband or betrothed should look at a woman. Eyes filled with dreams of flesh no doubt. 

And then what? She'd pop out some Iron Wolf babes and give Balon Greyjoy a means to control the North's greatest House.

Never.

She'd die before she let such a travesty come to pass. She'd rather take Jorah Mormont, disgraced noble and more than twice her age. She'd rather take a Frey to win the service of the Twins whenever House Stark fancied. 

She'd rather take Jon Snow. 

The image of herself and Jon beneath the wierwood tree came clear as the sky during a long summer. 

She felt a smile tug at her lips as she turned back to look at her mother. 

"I know Theon is our Ward and Father treats him like a son but the way his eyes linger on me. It troubles me terribly mother...if it weren't for Jon getting between the GreyJoy boy and myself, I'd still be enduring his gaze yet."

"Sansa have you lost it?! This is Theon....he looks at you like a sister. I promise you." Rob protested loudly.

Sansa snorted. 

"If that is how he looks at his sisters than I wonder where he keeps his dragon eggs." She replies. 

Rob is taken aback. 

"Besides Rob..." She walks forward to Rob and gives her eldest brother a hug. A hug Rob does not return. 

"I'd feel safer dancing with you or the bastard than with him...." 

He doesn't move at first. She can only imagine her mothers reaction at her calling Jon a bastard. 

She'd not called him such after the Crypts but Catelyn Stark would loath any situation that had pushed her precious daughter into friendship with Ned Stark's bastard son. 

A smite against the honor of House Stark and a betrayal of vows made to Catelyn when she was already married, heavy with Rob.

"You should have come to me sooner Sansa. You'd need not conspire with bastards because the Iron born Ward troubles you in our home." Catelyn soothed reassuringly. 

Sansa tries not to bristle at her mother's tone. Its harsh and disgusted tone rising at the word bastard. 

What did he ever do to you mother? He was just a baby. Would you treat me so if I was the bastard father brought home that day? She wants to ask. 

But she doesn't.

She's afraid she already knows the answer.

Her mother looks to Rob now, a coldness in her eyes. 

"I trust you'll have a talk with the boy so he remains far away from here this day."

"But mother Theon's not that kind of man he...."

"Is a ward of our house and has made your sister feel unhappy in her own home."

"Where would he go?"

Sansa decides to pipe up at last. 

"I've heard talk that he fancies a woman at a Brothel. Rose I think. Perhaps she might spend time with him today instead of torturing me with his gaze." Sansa explained. Her mothers face fell at the sound of her eldest daughter speaking casually of whores in brothels. 

"How would you know of this?!" Catelyn asks in a trembling voice. 

Sansa can't be sure if its sadness or anger that rules her mother in this moment. 

She must tread carefully. 

"Some of the servants talk when they think no one is close by...." Sansa decides to say at last. 

Rob visibly relaxes like a weight has been lifted from his body. Catelyn notices none of it as she continues to search Sansa's eyes for the telltale of a lie.

But a lie with truth at its core is the hardest lie to discern. 

"Don't worry about him. I'll make sure he stays away but he'll break bread with us when the Boar is served tonight in your honor sister. Please do him that mercy." Rob manages to get out, practically begging her at the end of it. 

Rob took Theon to the local whore house. Rob had laid with Rose but fathered no bastards thanks to moon tea. 

If mother knew of her eldest son's ways she'd not think about Sansa and Jon. 

Far greater the stigma surrounding the Son of Ned Stark fathering a bastard with a whore in peace than his father in the madness of war. 

"Thank you Rob. I fear I'm not wrong but perhaps he is simply desperate to be one of us that he seeks to gain you as a good brother." 

Catelyn would hear no more of it.

"You'll marry Joffrey or your cousin Robin before I let that Greyjoy get his tendrils on you." She said finally before hugging Sansa once more and nearly dragging Robb by the arm from Sansa's chambers. The gift for her name day sitting atop a small trunk near her door. Rob dropped it before sharing a look with her as the door closed. 

He was upset with her. It seemed that as her bond with Jon grew, her pack grew ever smaller. 

Septa Mordan returned and she made her way to the bath that had been prepared for her. Soon she was clean as a proper lady should be, her hair done up in twin tails that fell on either side of her face. 

She made an impression at breakfast where her father looked on her with pride and love. The purest love a father can have for a daughter. She felt small when he looked at her in the moment. She was but five name days again, father playing all manner of games to Catelyn's dismay. She raced into her father's arms and smelled the scent only her father had. 

"My little girl. You've grown up so fast....far too soon for my liking at that. Today we'll celebrate your name day with a feast." He said somberly. 

"Thank you father. Will any of the lords or ladies of the north be attending?"

Her father seemed to think a moment before nodding his head.

"Aye. Edmure has brought his family up from the Riverlands. The Umbers , Westerlings and even Mormonts have sent some of their family to be with us on this day."

"If its that small bear disguised as a girl than I'm sure Arya will be glad of the company at least." Sansa japed. 

They both chuckled while Arya seemed to shrink in her chair at the table. 

Jon was nowhere to seen. She'd thought he'd at least be sulking in the shadows or off at nearby table away from them. 

She'd ask her father to have Jon sit next to her at the feast. He actually seemed taken with the idea that she'd finally turned over a new leaf about his child born on the wrong side of the sheets. 

Taking a moment to lean in and whisper in her father ear she asked the question she'd been dying to ask. 

"Can we go hunting together father? Please."

He pulled back with wide eyes, puzzled. 

"What do you know of it?” he whispered back.

"Jon. my eldest brother offered to teach me how when I could not sew as I normally would."

Her fathers face looked guilty. 

"I'm sorry. We were a bit harsher than we should have been."

"Its alright father. I suspect I'm nothing compared to Arya but it would give us time together. If your not too busy." She said uncertainly before looking over at the rest of her family still sitting ignorant of their exchange. 

"Very well. If your sure you wish to pass the time hunting for the boar you'll eat in honor of your name day I'll not stop you." Ned caved. 

*************************************************************

Sure enough before too much time had passed and the morning sun had yet to rise to its fullest height, Sansa and her father with squires en tow, walked across the hunting grounds.

She saw the Boar before her father.

“Father! Look there by the treeline.” She whispered in excitement. 

Sure enough her father looked to see a rotund wild hog lazily grazing out of the thicket of the forest that bordered the castle grounds. 

“He's a big one Sansa, think you can take him? Perhaps something smaller would be best.” her father  
said doubtfully. 

Sansa tried not to be hurt by the doubts her father had but then again Ned Stark had never seen his eldest daughter knot an arrow much less hunt for her meal. 

Jon always brought the kills to the kitchens after he'd skinned and cleaned her share of the hunts bounty. 

Wasn't proper for her to dirty her hands he'd said. 

Irritation at the source of her newfound proclivity for the realms reserved for men.....or Arya, didn't last long. 

She knotted her arrow and drew back. 

“Steady Sansa, don't rush to loose your arrow til you've a clear shot.” her father cautioned.

“Yes father.”

The Boar turned to look at them and make some sort of noise before turning to regard a squire that was off to the side of their group. 

There!

She let the arrow loose and watched as it hit true, spearing boar through the left eye. 

The boar gave a mighty cry and struggled to turn to flee but her father's arrow caught it in the back leg. 

The hog thrashed wildly and made to come at them but the Stark duo put more arrows into the beast before father drew his sword, making to put himself between the hog and her.

It was for naught as the hog lost its battle to remain upright and fell dead upon the ground.

Sansa smiled and walked toward their catch. 

“He's a big one, Sansa. How many times have you and Jon hunted?”

“Only a handful of times, father. Though this...” She said as she crouched to inspect the kill.

“Is the largest I've ever taken down.”

Ned nodded his head before turning and hugging his daughter. 

“Your growing too fast, where did that sweet girl go who played with dolls and stitches?”

“We all have to grow up father....before you and mother scolded me for how I treated Arya, I'd had no reason to indulge other pursuits. Jon was kind enough to show me a great many things I'd never thought I'd fancie.” She said wistfully. 

“Aye. Your brother has come into his own these past few moons. Don't pretend to know what made  
you change your mind about him but I'm glad of it. He's a good man Sansa, wish that more would give  
him the kindness you've shown your brother.”

Sansa nodded. 

It wouldn't do to elaborate on the depths of the kindness Jon and her shared. 

“That he is father. People say that Rob is your favored son but Jon tries so hard to please you and mother. To show that he belongs....I just wish I'd not treated him as I did for so long....I was horrible.”

She cried tears of shame now and her father held her as she wept.

“Its alright pup, the past cannot be changed but its plain to see Jon pays no mind of it.”

He squeezed her a bit tighter before releasing her at last. A chaste kiss upon her forehead. 

A rarity the scion of house Stark barely showed to those outside their family or even within. She knew deep down her father cared for her which was more than some could say if the histories she'd read about were half true. 

She hadn't liked stories that held no happy endings. Stories where the just and kind came to be brought low by the cruel yet cunning.

Her mind drifted to the sorrowful tale of the half-year Queen, Rhaenyra Targaryen who'd been fed to the dragon Sunfyre at Dragon-stone by her own half brother. She could scarcely fathom doing such to either Jon or Arya for that matter, whatever their disagreements. 

Did men so despise the thought of a woman ruling that they'd sooner burn her than suffer commands from a woman? 

She almost felt herself like Arya at the thought before she banished it from her mind to ask her father what had troubled her since the crypts. 

“Mother says I shall bleed soon and that I'll be betrothed. Do you know anything of this father?”

Her father sighed and put both hands on her shoulders.

“Your mother speaks truth but she's wrong to hasten the coming of such events. You've much to experience, perhaps the gods will bid to keep you a girl for another year.” 

Sansa prayed he was right. 

But what if he wasn't? 

What if she flowered on the morrow? What if she had perhaps a moons turn before her life was decided for her. 

“Did you have someone in mind for me father?”

He simply shook his head.

“Why do you wish to speak of such things?”

The image of Jon and her laying in bed together crossed her mind before his face morphed into that of what she imagined Joffrey may look like. Followed in turn by several names from good northern families pledged to house Stark. 

Her father hesitates and begins to speak but she barely hears him. 

Names tumble from her fathers lips.

Harry Karstark.

Willas Tyrell.

Harrold Hardying.

Robert Arryn.

Joffrey Baratheon.

The last is but wishful thinking her father assures her, thinking her hurt by the news. 

“Harry Karstark is a good man though I know your mother and her sister would rather you be married off further south. Willas is said to be a gentle soul, he'd be kind and gentle as a man should toward his wife.” 

Didn't Robert Arryn still suckle his mothers breast despite being nearly Bran's age?

She hoped she'd simply forgotten the boys allotment of name days. 

Jon still suckled at the teat but they were hers at the least! 

Maybe house Karstark would allow Jon to stay at Karhold as her protector. 

“The king may yet wish our houses united but I'd not get my hopes up dearest daughter. Jon Arryn cautioned me last we spoke that Margery would be the better match. I'm sorry.” He says expecting her to cry out in anger. 

But all Sansa feels is relief. 

She doesn't want to leave Winterfell if it means leaving Jon.

But I'll be bled soon and then mother shall marry me off to a stranger.

“Its alright father. You've given me much to think on. May I get back to the castle? The guests are sure to have begun arriving by now.”

“I'll find someone deserving of you I promise you Sansa. Someone brave. Gentle and Strong.”

I already have found someone, father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a two parter that was edited a few times over. Not a hundred percent on the final outcome but the next chapter is already done. Thanks to anyone who comments or gives feedback good or bad. Its what keeps me writing. 
> 
> Just two more chapters for the Winterfell Arc. 
> 
> Who do you think Sansa would have married if not for Robert pushing for the unifying of the Houses through marriage? What might be the second best option if it can't be Sansa?


	5. Jon II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa finally cross the line.  
Chapter includes explicit scenes.

JON II:

The days festivities had gone longer than Jon had thought they would but he cared not. Sansa was beaming with delight at the smattering of lemon cakes laid out for her with abandon by the cooks and serving girls. 

He stole small glances at her near every chance he had. The Karstarks sent their daughter Alys to accompany her brother to pay tribute to the eldest Stark daughters name day. 

As Jon sipped his cup and took in the atmosphere of the castle grounds he couldn't fault their father for pampering the girl...though he suspected it was Lady Stark trying to woo her eldest daughter back into the fold.

Back to ignoring her husbands bastard child. Her half brother.

Jon nearly choked on his drink, drawing curious glances as he hit his chest to help dampen his coughing fit. 

The picture of lady stark upon catching Sansa and himself with their lips pressed together, never mind between one anothers legs, was somehow the most gratifying and comical thought to float into his mind this morning. 

The thought of Lady Stark going purple with rage before expiring from shock was tempered by the image of his father's disappointed face laced with unbearable shame. A shame he may well rectify by taking his bastard sons head if he did not deem him fit for the wall. Sansa undoubtedly would be whisked away to reflect amongst the silent sisters. 

The thought of his sister....of his Sansa...being carted off for something he 'should' have put an end to a few moons ago, gave him such terrible pain. It was like all the world was without the rays of sunlight, the sea's devoid of fish and North without house Stark. 

It would be unnatural. 

A year ago he'd have been enraged if someone had told him his first encounter with a woman would be with the one he called his sister. 

Sansa had changed him as much as he liked to think he'd changed her but perhaps he'd only revealed what had been hidden all along as she had for him. 

Jeyne Poole walked by where Jon had chosen to seat himself.

"Will you be performing for your sister today Jon? It would be ever so sweet if you did." The young girl implored as she batted her eyelashes. 

Jon rolled his eyes and thought not for the first time.

Why are you treating with a bastard you'd not break fast alongside never mind spare a second glance not but two moons ago?

For all they did together in private, Sansa and he had become genuine companions. They'd talk of their day before bed....or more often, while in bed. Sansa would buy him  
books and instruments, telling the Septa or who ever may inquire, that they were for her. It was simply her taking 'pity' on her bastard brother that she shared those same books  
and instruments with him. 

Jeyne Poole probably believed the same. She still called him a bastard but never to his face and certainly never around Sansa.

"Aye, I may but I doubt it very much." The young girls face fell at his words.

"Lady Stark wouldn't want me spoiling her daughters big day."

Jeyne looked confused.

"But she adores you!" Jeyne exclaimed. 

A few eyes looked at them. 

Eyes attached to heads with mouths that would speak ill of any lord or lady amongst themselves. 

It wouldn't do. 

If Lady Stark got wind of the foggiest notions of what went on within the castle walls, she'd have Sansa put under guard just to dispel the very idea of it.

It was bad enough Sansa would have her first bleeding in a few moons time. Or mayhaps it would be on the morrow and this dream would have to end.

"She tolerates me at best I assure you lady Poole. I've returned the kindness she's seen fit to show me as any good brother would for his sister."

She didn't look convinced.

He turned to stare down into his cup and muttered.

"Even bastards love their families, Jeyne."

She seemed startled and looked around the room for others to distract herself. Anywhere but at him.

She must wonder if I know the truth of her feelings toward me. Her jealousy that she can no longer act as Sansa's shadow. Trapes about the grounds of Winterfell as though she  
were a Stark herself.

But she's still higher than myself. 

She's not a bastard.

Jon tried to banish these thoughts but found that save for when he was with his sister, he could not. 

Bringing Rob and Theon to yield in the training yard paled next to writing poetry beside Sansa while she draped herself around him. Hold him close to her person, making him feel the words written on the pages were meant for him alone and simply a move by her to show off her skill with ink quill. 

"I'll leave you be Snow. For what its worth....She's thankful for your kindness. So I must be thankful in turn." She said before she curtsied and let him be.

The hours ticked by before it would not be long until they'd all gather for a feast in his sisters honor. 

When he looked for Sansa though at the the great table in the halls he could not find her. 

His father and Lady Stark were engaged with their respective friends while wine and food flowed freely as ever. 

Rob could be seen chatting up a man from the Riverlands, perhaps a scion of a lesser house sworn to the Tullys. 

When at last he found Sansa she was waiting for him right where he'd thought to bring her that very day!

The Broken Tower of the Old keep never looked as fine a place as when he spied Sansa leaning against the crumbling brickwork at its base.

"Sansa. I looked for you in the halls but you'd already gone."

She smiled at him and he felt himself grow nervous.

"Did you not wish to give me your gift in front of our parents Jon?" She asked with sly wink.

What had his good sister become ? Had he done this or was she always this way?

"I...wouldn't have minded giving you your name day gifts but your mother would not think it proper of me."

Sansa smiled and leaned forward to embrace him a hug. Leaning close to whisper in his ear.

"When has proper stopped you before, love?" She said as she nibbled on his ear.

He felt himself grow tight in his small clothes but he thought of how a knight would treat a fair maiden. Sansa's was certainly that and more.

"I prepared our tower in honor of your name day my lady. We'll have to journey to the top to retrieve it though." 

"As my fearless protector I'll trust you to get me their safely Knight Stark." She said. 

It felt wrong to be called a Stark even if it was the one thing he longed for once upon a time.

As her hand entwined with his, he knew it was because he longed to not be a Stark. To not be her brother. 

To not hide the love that grew every day in his heart for eldest daughter of House Stark, his half sister who's looks favored her Tully heritage. Who's passion was as fiery as her hair.

They ascended that steps of the broken tower, haphazard safe passage made possible by having made the trek many times before. 

Sansa squeezed his hand before she opened the door. 

"Whatever you've brought me won't compare to the greatest gift I've received today."

His heart sank. 

Despair and self doubt returned to his mind. 

What could a bastard ever afford to give a noble lady that she did not already have?

The door opened and Sansa stepped into the room, letting out a gasp. 

A small candle sat in a corner while goose pillows sat on the end of a long fur rug laid out like a makeshift bed. 

Beside the arrangement was a plate with creme filled deserts she'd heard of being served in White Harbor. 

Beside that exotic dish was a volume covering the 'The greatest women through the ages: Three hundred years of Targaryen ladies from Visenya to Ellia". 

Her steps took her forward and away from him.

She bent to collect the book and turn its pages before she was greeted with the sight of yet another book and a small box hiding beside it. 

Lysian Nights a forbidden romance' captured Sansa's attention as she now ignored the book of women she dreamed to emulate and looked forward instead to reading of  
steamy encounters revolving around tragic romance the world could not abide.

Will she think of us when she reads of the valiant Knight who's heart beats for a pillow girl with purple eyes?

Finally before Jon could think too hard on the topic, that gift too was put aside. 

"Jon.....what is this?"

"Its a gift Sansa. Open it."

She regarded him for a moment before reaching for the clasp with trembling hands and opening the small box. 

Inside a small jewel the color of Sansa's eyes was held tight within a small pendant that was shaped like a wolfs head. A chain of silver completed the necklace, its craftsmanship worth every gold and silver stag he'd had to fork over.

Sansa put a hand to her mouth and turned to look at him, her eyes were trailing tears.

Had he turn her with his gift?

"Just...Jon you didn't have to do this love. Being with you was already the greatest present I could ever ask for!" She protested as she stared back down at the piece of jewelry he'd gifted her.

"You flatter me my lady but I could say the same of you.....I...I love you Sansa." 

She held the necklace with reverence now but remained rooted where she stood. 

Jon walked forward and enveloped her in an embrace, kissing her forehead before he kissed her nose.

She giggled a bit at the show of affection, a small bit of laughter escaping as she blinked her eyes, shedding more tears.

Tears of happiness, Jon realized.

Finally his lips found hers and it was like nothing mattered. The guests downstairs that may wonder where the lady of the hour had gone. Not Lady Stark's hatred of him. Not even that they shared a father. 

"I love you Jon." She said when the kiss was at last broken.

"Not as much as I love you Sansa. I'd give anything to have you..."

"You already have me Jon."

He looked away.

"Aye. I just wish our love had not limits. Wish I was someone else so that I might have you as my lady."

He'd almost said Wife. 

He wanted to say those words too. 

"Who says there need be limits?" Sansa asked  
tentatively, drawing circles on his chest. 

Does she know what she's saying? What she's offering.

He break from her then, reaching out a hand for the necklace.

"Let me put it on you."

She nods and turns around for a moment as he puts the piece of jewelry on her. 

She exhales when he's done but his hands linger on her shoulders. 

He can't stop himself. Her fingers move his hands like he's a puppet upon a string. 

Her dress falls from her body with ease. 

He's thankful for the clean fur rug but that's the furthest thing from his mind as she turns around. 

No matter how many times he's gazed upon her still growing body, he can't fathom a sight more captivating in all seven kingdoms. 

No Lysian whore could ever compare to Sansa. No knight could ever be worthy. 

Yet he was! By a cruel trick of the gods, she'd shown him the love he craved but could never have fully.

She stepped back and stood proudly before him, smiling as he was rendered speechless. 

The jewel contrasted with her pale white skin and fell neatly between her small breasts, her nipples hard with want for his touch. 

If someone had been gazing through the window they'd have seen his sisters pale backside and pair of long legs spread further apart than was needed to stand. 

"Say something Jon! Your making me blush...." Sansa said finally. 

How a creature like her could ever doubt a noble like Joffrey wouldn't be spellbound was beyond him. 

"Your ravishing my lady. Wish that I could devour you as you are....though I don't think I could ever stop." He chuckled as Sansa's face matched her hair. 

"Then devour me my Love...."

Jon falls to his knees in front of Sansa who continues to stand proud and elegant, naked as her name day, before him.

His hands trace up the back of her legs to come to a stop, clutching her arse. He pulls her to him and squeezes her pale rear with tender care. 

His nose is tickled by the hair that surrounds her sex but he breathes in her scent all the same. Her arousal making her slick with need for his affection.

Jon slips his tongue inside her womanhood, drawing circles deliberately without haste. 

Sansa's hands are in his hair, pulling him closer. Her voice breaks as she moans his name. 

"Jon! Don't tease me!"

He exhales a warm breath on her slick sex and is glad his hands are on her ass to steady her as she shakes. 

"Jon.....Jon....Yes!....right there please!"

She's threatening to tear the hair from his scalp.

Finally he decides to make her come undone. To make her quake and rock with reckless abandon as she wears the gift he's given her. 

The mark of his love for her.

He finds her pearl and circles his tongue with greater ferocity until he closes his lips around the bundle of pleasure and sucks like a newborn babe to a teat. 

"Brother!" She moans as her body convulses and weakness takes her legs from her. 

Jon's eyes go wide and he has no time to move from the torrent of liquid that splashes upon his faith and dribbles down into his mouth. The flavor not unpleasant. 

She called me brother when I brought her to peak!

We're brother and sister...if father saw us..

But before those thoughts can register, Sansa has slide down to rest upon the fur rug and laid her head back upon the generous helping of Goose pillows. She's looking down at him with half lidded eyes and a content smile on her face. 

Lazily she reaches over toward a pastry and begins to eat the cream filled snack paying no mind as she spreads her legs wide in a most unladylike manner. 

Jon's eyes go wide at the sight of her engorged sex, slick from the fruits of his efforts. 

He could still taste her on his tongue and thought perhaps he would lean forward and do just that when her hand shot out to cover her sex, warding him off as though he were a snark or grump-kin.

"Your turn." She says simply.

Jon Snow was many things but able to resist the demands of a naked Sansa Stark he was not. 

His clothes lay discarded within moments before Sansa crawled forward and raised herself up to rest on her knees below him.

"Oh Sansa....Sweetling...by the seven!" He rambles as he feels her mouth around him, twirling her tongue like she knows he likes. 

Its torture is what it is!

Finally his length is near full when she unexpectedly pulls her mouth away from his member and rises to stand. Her height bringing her equal to him despite three name days difference in age.

"Jon....I want this moment to be special. The maester says I'll bleed soon and then I'll be with a babe. Before that happens I want us to give ourselves to one another as we would if we were bedded on our wedding night."

Jon's nerves are on end. 

She's your sister! You can't take this from her!

But the other part of him. The part that beats with a passion he didn't know he could ever dare have, knows his heart will never love another as he loves Sansa. Let King Robert name him a Stark and give him the most beautiful woman in Kingslanding. 

She would pale in comparison to the pale goddess before him. 

To the laughter that sounds like bells in his ears. 

"Alright then..." are the words that finally leave him. 

The flowery declarations of love remain jammed in his throat. 

She turns him around so that his back is now to the window and slowly he lays where She had been but a moment ago. 

She drapes herself over him, her sex brushing his own as they kiss slowly for several moments. 

The sounds from other parts of the castle grounds occasionally register but neither of the two Stark children pay it any mind.

Finally Sansa kisses him on the forehead and leans back. 

Jon gazes down and sees his member but an inch from Sansa's opening. 

If I stop now then she'll have her maidenhead intact.

"Sansa we shou..." He begins but that's as far as he gets. 

Warmth engulfs him as Sansa lowers herself upon him without warning. 

Her face is hidden in her hand within an instant, a pained moan escaping her as she stills like a statue atop him. 

He can't believe they've crossed the threshold of no return. 

But he can't think about the even either as Sansa takes his hands in her own as he reaches for her. 

"I'm alright....just..it hurts."

"I'm sorry Sansa. We'll stop right now.."

"No!" She snaps at him with a fierceness he's unprepared for.

"Just...Just give it time. Jeyne's cousin told her it always hurts the first time...."

"What of all the times after?" 

Sansa's eyes go wide in surprise before a smirk appears on her face. She moves slightly and Jon does all he can not to spill himself then and there. 

Sansa's warmth wrapped around his length and squeezes as if to push him out.

"They get better." She says as she moves her hips slowly. More gasps escaping as Jon focuses on the necklace that moves along with Sansa's breasts as she increases her pace.

The wet sounds of flesh slapping against flesh soon fill the room alongside the smells Jon had only ever breathed while retrieving Theon from the whore house.

His fingers still entwined with hers, he props himself up and leans forward as Sansa lowers her face to his own. Their lips collide as their bodies continue to be joined.

His hands break free as she hugs herself to him, he begins to push himself off the fur rug and deeper inside her warmth. 

"Jon! Oh gods Jon....right there!"

The sounds are unseemly now and he wonders if he'll be able to get the smell of her off him. 

Would he even want to?

He feels himself about to erupt.

"Sansa, I'm about to peak. Get off before..."

"No! Spill inside me! I'm safe til my first bleeding....please Jon. Give me your love. Every drop!"

Jon pushes as deep and as fast as he can while Sansa slams herself down upon him, one hand steadying herself on his chest while the other squeezes her left breast in ecstasy. 

Then he spills inside her with a mighty thrust that has them both shaking after words.

They collapse atop the fur rug. Basking in the afterglow of their love making. 

Jon didn't know what he'd expected but the feel of Sansa chest rising and falling atop his own while they stared into each others eyes erased all doubt this could be wrong. How could something so terrible feel so right? Surely the gods old and new would understand....if not then he surely hoped he would bear whatever harm came of this union. 

The sight of blood upon his manhood as he slips from her tells him she's lost her maidenhead for true. As they untangle and she rolls to rest on her belly, he rests on his knees and gazes at her entrance, his seed dripping out upon the fur rug. A light pink color though he realizes their is not much of it. The rest is staying inside Sansa.

His manhood rises once more and Sansa yelps in surprise when he grabbs hold of her thighs and pushes himself inward again. Her back arching as her moans are smothered by the goose pillows she buries her face in.

Not liking her hidden from him, he pulls back on her pigtails like reigns on a horse and pushes forward in frantic thrusts. Before long she's moaning his name and calling on her 'brother', to go faster. He pulls her hair hard forcing her head up as he thrusts a final time, keeping himself inside until his manhood shrinks from her warm cavern.

"Your the only one I could ever love Sansa....the gods condemn me all they like but I am yours from this day until my last."

Sansa's eyes go wide before she smiles and turns her head to kiss him as they relax on the fur rug stained with the evidence of their love.

Famished from the strain of their coupling, he feeds her the expensive treats he'd procured for them. She reaches across his naked body to the plate and does likewise for him.

Jon cares for nothing else in the moment but eventually it like all things comes to an end as they rouse themselves to stand, to dress and finally to put on the mask of being nothing more than brother and sister. Before descending the tower however Sansa stops him.

"Thank you Love. For the gifts...for everything that came after. I'm yours as you are mine from this day til my last." She says with sincerity.

He wants to cry for joy but simply presses his lips to hers. Coming away from the kiss, his finger in-twin with hers and he makes his vow once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written before the previous chapter but kept editing and pouring over material for Essos/Danny Arc.
> 
> Originally this was going to be longer but figured what was there was sufficient to get across that Sansa and Jon are now past the point of no return. Obviously ignorance is bliss but this action will have consequences. Currently working on the Sunday chapter as well as deciding how badly Catelyn would take the news of Jonsa. 
> 
> What do you all think? 
> 
> Also wondering if I should open comments to guests.


	6. Jon A

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon Arryn discusses matters of financial importance with the small council.

Jon Arryn I: Kingslanding

Jon Arryn didn't care for the affairs of court this day, it had been unusually warm even as the days had begun to grow shorter.   
The maesters said it would not be long, perhaps a few years at most, before a long winter came. 

How long it may last was the job of the Citadel to discern, but they gave him only conflicting reports. Some said it would be a short winter while others argued passionately that this winter like the current summer they all enjoyed, would be long. 

Turning to regard his fellow members of the small council, Jon couldn't help but grow weary at the riddle placed before him. 

"What does the hand wish to discuss this evening, my lord." Petyr Baelish said with a smirk that  
seemed etched into his face. 

A lesser man. A foolish and vain man, would have thrown the upstart Peter Baelish from the red keep. He'd been tempted on more than one occasion in years past but he'd not seized the dealer of whores and coin by his lapel, discarding him from his chambers windows. For as aggravating as Baelish could be, he was the most outgoing of any of those that served the realm. 

If a coin was needed then a coin would be found. 

"I've come to arrange for a feast between House Tyrell and the crown in honor of the union   
of Baratheon and Stark." He said indicating with a nod toward Renly Baratheon. 

The young man had been but ten when his brother rebelled to take the throne. Now he sat on the small council dressed in finery that dwarfed that of many a noble woman. The youngest Baratheon would undoubtedly sire many a handsome prince, many a ravishing princess, from the union he was to have with Margery Tyrell. 

"Does my brother intend to marry the Tyrell Girl within the next moon?" Stannis asked. His face lacking in any expression of happiness or disagreement. 

But Stannis was the best of them all as far as Jon was concerned. He'd stood against the enemies of his brother, against starvation and impossible odds. 

Yet what had Robert done?

He'd ignored Jon's advice to give the man Storms end. He'd barely acknowledged his brothers accomplishments and it pained him deeply to see the brothers not be as they had been when he'd fostered a young Robert Baratheon a life time ago.

Now he was going to bring one who's House had nearly killed his brother, into their family to be wedded to the brother that had sacrificed nothing. 

"No Stannis, Margery Tyrell and I shall not be wedded just yet. A man must woo his love for their to be a good match. The hand suggested the match, did you not lord hand?." Renly replied. 

"Yes of course Renly but are you sure you'd not wish for a shorter passage of time between betrothal and vows?"

"Nonsense. My brother, good king Robert." Renly began, sending a pointed look at Stannis when he mentioned brother. 

"Agree's that we should test the waters and grow this engagement of House Baratheon and Tyrell. Why Sir Loras Tyrell has taken the time to show me much the Tyrell's have to offer the crown. I assure you the wait shall well be worth it." A gleam came over the young man as he spoke of the Tyrells.

Jon could only hope this would be worth the expense.

"I hope it is so."

"This is a waste of everyone's time. Does the crown have to spend more coin just so you can prance around making eyes with a rose bush? My brother would never care for such things...." Stannis began but then stopped. A knowing look crossing his face as he looked to Baelish, Jon and finally back to his brother Renly.

"You bribed our brother with tourneys and and wenches haven't you?" 

Renly did not respond immediately.

Baelish however spoke up.

"The King is indeed a lover of the joust and the embrace of a comely woman. As someone of his station deserves, surely the Lord hand knows of this as well or he wouldn't be here with us asking for our help." 

Jon felt relieved. Baelish had perceived events exactly, once again. The japes and occasional half slights against the crown could be forgiven at times such as these.

"Your quit right, master of coin. The crown will require Sixty-thousand Gold dragons for a feast and various games, including the jousting Lord Renly spoke of. Surely their is a way to acquire such coin on short notice?" He asked hopeful.

Baelish simply smiled at him and nodded.

"Sixty-thousand! This is a disgrace of my brothers time and coin."

"You know well as I brother that the Tyrells have lent us coin and will continue to do so, all the more so if we tie ourselves to them in marriage. I'm perfectly happy to make the sacrifice for the good of the realm." Renly chastised his brother as though the idea of bedding the princess from High garden, grand daughter of the queen of thorns, was some noble sacrifice. Some great loss to the man who had a three outfits for every day should he be unsure of what he'd like to wear. All glittered with gold and fine stitching that cost more than the people of flea bottom would ever see in their life time. Perhaps all of them thrice over.

Stannis looked angry as though he wished to say more but instead he simply clenched his hands into fists again and again. Working through his anger. Through what must to him seem another great folly by his brother that diminished all the time he'd spent half starved facing down Mace Tyrell. 

Had Stannis fallen and the Tyrell army marched with the rest of those loyal to house Targaryen to reinforce Rheagar at the Trident, none would be sitting here now. Least of all Jon himself. 

"Calm yourself. Your acting like children, this match will benefit everyone and if it takes a tourney, a feast or a thousand whores from Lyse, we shall do it!" The venerable hard nosed falcon demanded, slamming his hand down on the table for good measure.

Varys did not flinch, neither did Baelish but Renly and Stannis looked taken slightly aback. A product of having known the man in his younger days no doubt. 

Jon didn't wish to be harsh but he found himself tired. Tired that he'd been away from his wife and son. Tired of fighting Robert on damn near everything, agreeing to compromise only to see the king decree the opposite the next morning. 

It vexed him but at least he'd gotten through to Robert this once, though not as he wished.

I wanted him to marry Joffrey to Margery. Why didn't he listen? Why does he insist some northern girl, Sannah or Sanza, would make the better match? He thought morosely. 

The North was vast and he loved Ned Stark like a son but the north was sparsely populated in the frigid north while the south held resources and people aplenty! It was bad enough that Cersie birthed babes that looked more Lannister than Baratheon, but he put that thought out of his mind once again. It wouldn't do him well to dwell on such matters.

"Good. Now, Baelish, does the treasury have the means of finding the coin?"

"Of course old friend. What kind of friend would I be to your dear wife if I failed her good husband in the tasks he's laid before me?" Baelish asked.

"Not the reliable sort for sure. I too would like to hear of this windfall you've unearthed. My birds haven't whispered of men from Braavos, so where I wonder do you find coin? Its a most fascinating puzzle we would all like to hear how you've managed to solve." The eunuch, Varys finished speaking.

Baelish seemed annoyed but then Jon's eyes were growing old. He hoped it was just a friendly rivalry between the two. Varys had proven himself most loyal and proficient at dealing with the Targaryens, keeping the crown aware of beggar dragons. 

Jon was glad Robert had not lowered himself to demand the death of children. He prayed that they found swift ends or else saw sense to fade into oblivion. The death of children as had befallen Aegon and Rhaenys was abhorrent but he'd not lose sleep over the matter, Tywin had made a fair point. 

For that reason he'd backed Tywin when it came to the matter of Jamie Lannister. Then as now, the need for both coin and stability won out over the romantic tales of honor and chivalry. It made Jon sad to admit that much to himself as it did to see Ned's disappointment in Robert. 

Baelish spoke again with a knowing smirk on his face as he stared down the master of whispers across the table. 

"As master of coin it is my duty to see to all means that the crown may use to acquire the coin it needs. I know you do not wish to increase the burden of the debts owed to either the Queens family or the Iron Bank. Nor would it do to have the Tyrells front the majority of the cost themselves." 

Jon grimaced imagining the over five million gold dragons that were owed to lenders large and small. Most was to the Lannisters, totaling about three million gold stags, though it was sure to pass that point any day now. 

The iron bank sent inquiry every other moon as to the state of the finances which Jon then asked Baelish to negotiate an extension. The debt load grew along with the interest but Jon knew Robert would come to see sense eventually, if not then forging marriage alliances with wealthy houses was paramount. 

"A few wise men amongst the Tyroshi trade cartels have expressed a desire, to be of assistance to the realm. Knowing it would be rude to spurn such noble endeavors, I took it upon myself to meet with them and discuss terms."

Jon swallowed with bated breath and asked the question.

"And?" 

Baelish looked at him and put a hand out to grasp his shoulder in the way of a friend. He thought it unbecoming of a council member to be so familiar with the hand of the king but he cared not in this moment.

"Rest easy my lord hand. The amount negotiated for was more than sufficient to meet the needs of Lord Renly and the Realm both."

More silence. Renly quirked an eyebrow and Stannis seemed to wish to storm out of the room rather than brooding like a coiled spring as he did so now.

" The traders from Tyrosh have agreed to Two-hundred-thousand in various loans that are very competitive when laid next to what we'd be expected to pay the Iron bank or House Lannister." 

Peter Baelish. The friend of his wife who he'd taken into the small council only at Lysa's urging was proving to be invaluable yet again. The master of coin handed him a sheet of parchment that was filled with numbers and terms of repayment that did indeed guarantee that he could rest easy where the realms finances were concerned. 

Varys looked....well Varys didn't look much of anything as far as Jon could tell. Ever the impassive face of the crown's master of whispers, that revealed nothing that went on behind the cock less man's eyes. 

"Thank you Peter! This is a great find...I'll be sure to write my wife of this and you'll have the thanks of the crown as well." 

"I only seek to aid yourself and the realm, lord hand.". 

Jon felt himself growing tired and bid all others to leave the chambers. They bid him a good day or else stomped off in the case of Lord Stannis.

Jon stretched and felt his old bones creak with age though he thanked the gods he was not as frail as the bumbling half mute, maester Pycell. The man didn't say much but what he did provide was usually rambling sycophantic groveling of the highest order. 

The maester's two dozen heavy chains, wound of black iron, red gold, bright copper, lead steel and platinum among just a few, attested to the man's abilities. 

Jon hated to admit such a man was invaluble but seemed to act a fool regardless. Maybe it was an act? 

No, he was certain no one could carry on a mummery for as long as Pycelle had. What would be the point?

Turning to walk around the table and admire the garishness of the room, Jon gazed at the rich Myrish carpets, the tapestries from Norvos and Qohor and finally the Valyrian Sphinxes that flanked the door with eyes of garnet. 

How had he managed to come so far? 

How could he fail at getting a Weirwood tree to grow in the Vale yet topple a monarch who's family had reigned for three hundred years? How could he stear the affairs of state but not dissuade the King he'd raised like a son from the idea of Prince Joffrey marrying Sansa Stark?  
Yes, he had the name Ned's eldest daughter clear in his mind at last. Though it had been many name days since he'd gazed upon the warden of North, he could be certain the man's children would make dutiful wives.  
Just not for Joffrey or Tommen.  
Would the King be amenable to Arianne Martell instead? It would heal the wounds of Princess Ellia and her children's death. It had to. 

Though if Robert had no wish to consort with Dorn then he should have matched his son to Margery instead of throwing his brother at the richest and most populous House in the seven kingdoms. 

Jon Arryn sighed and summoned up a lighter mood for when he would inform the King of their new found prosperity. However short a time it would take the king to spend it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wish that I knew more about Jon Arryn as a character. Trying to put some chapters in that are not Jon or Sansa related so the story feels more fleshed out. Its amazing to see how bankrupt the crown has become but Robert is already pushing for Sansa/Joffrey match well before the death of Jon Arryn. I think in the books and show he came off as wanting to be brothers with Ned the way it would have been with Lyanna Stark. 
> 
> Editing the other chapters now. Spending more time pre-series(tv and books), because its been pointed out how rare it is.


	7. Theon I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some time has passed since Sansa's name day. Theon sits down to break fast at the high table and reflects on his life as a new threat grows ever stronger north of the wall.

THEON I: WINTERFELL

Theon Greyjoy, the sole surviving son of Balon Greyjoy. The heir to the Iron Islands. Son of kraken and reavers. 

That's what Theon liked to tell himself. Deep down though he struggled with another identity. One that was not his own but that...if he was honest, he would happily take. 

Stark. 

"Pass the Pea's would you,Theon." Rob said beside him as the evening feast kept on around him while he remained trapped in his own mind. 

A clever smile adorned his face and he smiled like he knew Rob was going to ask the question ahead of time. Like he was the keeper of a great joke only he, the ward of the Starks, could understand. 

"Aye, Rob. Here you are." Theon said as the bowl with peas made its way to his friend. 

His captor.

The man he wished was his brother. 

The feast was nothing important. No great lords visited Winterfell this day, no raucous laughter filled the halls. Only the family that had kept him since he was but a wee lad, not as a prisoner but as a son. 

Then his eyes wandered to the table down below, away from the great table the family reserved for itself. The finely crafted wood and metal work gave way to shabbier tables where one man sat. The man who'd made life for Theon worse in the past five moons than in the rest of the time he could remember having known the bastard of Winterfell. 

Jon Snow. 

Bastard doesn't know how lucky he is that Lord Stark didn't just send him to an orphanage. 

For the years he'd known Jon as a boy until a short time before his last name day, the creature that stained Ned Stark's honor. The bastard was nothing. Could never hope to be anything more than what the gods had made him.

For a moment Theon regrets these thoughts some.

Jon Snow and he had not been friends but they'd not been enemies as they were now!

Sure they would jape or fight dirty in the yards with training swords but that was the full of it. 

Theon jabbed a bit of meat that sat sullenly on his plate, coated in sauce and bits of potato. 

His eyes wandered down the table as he caught sight of her. The woman he had pined for all his time since he knew a man could pine for a woman. 

Sansa Stark. 

She was ravishing, everything he imagined a queen should be. The sound of her voice when she read poetry or sight of her body in fine silks brought from the South, made him nervous and uncertain. Anxiety overtook him at these times and he'd often chastised himself for it. 

But she had been good to him. Not as he would like but enough. 

Beside her, her brother was going on about some business to do with the farthest reaches of the North. 

"The Umbers you say? Why hasn't GreatJon called for his own to handle the wildlings?" Rob asked his father.

Theon simply sat and listened. Thankful for another moment that he could look away from the men he considered more a brother and father than his own had ever been. 

Maron Grejoy, second son of Balon Greyjoy. 

Thats what the history books would say, some ink dried and forgotten on a page that rarely warranted a second glance. 

The book would not say that the man had been filled with nothing but cruel japes for others, including Theon. Nor would such a book nor person, say how Maron had been a compulsive liar. 

His brother would lie about the things one not bother concealing. 

He'd hold out two fish and claim to the drowned god and back that he had three. 

Theon could barely remember him. His face a blur. 

Sansa Stark continued to chew on the potatoes and reach for anything that was not cut from the animal he'd spent so much time to track. He'd have hoped to see her smile. 

To see her savor the food he'd brought her. 

But she ate very little of the meat. 

Theon's face fell a moment and he looked to Ned Stark and his son again. 

"The wildlings venture further south and its a concern for all. Only the Wall keeps their kind out."

"Then why must we go father? I'd thought Lord Manderly wished us at his court?" Rob asked. 

"White Harbor is important aye but making sure your seen when a lord sworn to you calls for your aid matters as well."

"To be Warden of the North means that you must swear to protect the people of the north from our greatest enemies. Three milenia ago it was the Umbers who stood agains the twin kings from beyond the wall. Gendel and Gorne would have won the day if not for the actions of house Umber in aiding the watch to protect all northerners.” Ned Stark explained to his son.

“But that was long ago, surely they can't threaten us again like they once did, father.” Robb protested.

Ned Stark looked down at his food before continuing. Theon knew what was to come next. For want of wishing to someday be a Stark, Theon had poured over books about Starks buried in the crypts. Some of what he'd once learned still remained between his ears.

“William Stark and the Drunken Giant, Harmond Umber may well have thought the same. That didn't stop Raymond Redbeard from bringing his host through the wall by way of the caves beneath the wall. Nights watch nor long dead Targaryen Dragons lifted a finger to stop them.”

Robb looked down at his food, shamed by his father for forgetting something so important to the house he would some day rule. Theon hoped he could bring the Iron islands to face the danger of the savages beyond the wall. 

Would they tell of Robb Stark and Theon Greyjoy ? The wolf and the kraken side by side against a king beyond the wall. 

“I'm sorry father, I'd forgotten.”

Ned didn't scold his son or berate him. 

“The North must always remember. Mance Rayder grows bolder. I fear that before too long we may face Raymond Redbeard come again. Men are alive still who remember those times, you'd do well to seek their council should they offer it, son.”

Robb wore a look of steadfastness upon his face. 

“I will, father. Should Mance come I'll drive him back alongside you and Greatjon. I'm sorry for doubting the need for answering his plight.”

Mance Rayder. 

The king beyond the wall. 

More like a King of savages. 

He'd never understood how people couldn't kneel. Even as a ward he knew he was prince and was treated better for it. 

You'd have to be blind, deaf and dumb to not see how kings kept order amongst the small folk. 

The only lands not ruled by kings were places of barbarism and backwardness. 

The lands of always winter beyond the wall must be such a place only because no lords gave orders. 

Essos he'd heard tell, was a place filled with horse fuckers and slavers. 

Only Braavos sounded different but Theon didn't care to dig too deep into the matter. 

Why should he? He'd be the ruler of the Iron Island one day. 

Maybe then he could ask Lord Stark for his daughter and he to be married. The past finally buried by the union of Greyjoy and Stark.

"Won't Wyman Manderly take offense? Could we perhaps do both?", Robb asked hopefully. 

Theon had to struggle to roll his eyes. He loved Robb like a brother but the man was a southerner under a north man's skin. 

The slightly auburn hair of Robb's cast doubt on that but least he shared something with his sister Sansa. They took after their mother Catelyn Stark that way.

Ned Stark regarded his heir but a moment before he spoke in a placating tone.

"We'll have other opportunities to visit House Manderly, son. You'll gain more respect from your banners by defending them than how many coppers you can put in their hands."

"Yes, father."

Theon reached over to shake Robb a bit.

"Relax Robb. One look at you two and I'm sure the wildlings will shit themselves in fear." 

"language!" Catelyn Stark chastised with a stern gaze in his direction.

"Aye. My apologies lady Stark." 

She eyed him wearily for a moment before she resumed eating.

Ned Stark spoke next but it was not to his son but to him. His Ward.

"What makes you think your not coming along?"

Theon blinked. 

"What do you mean Lord Stark? Wouldn't be proper for a Greyjoy to tour the Last Hearth."

Ned Stark simply leaned back and stared him a bit before he spoke again. Serious and gruff but Theon thought he could hear warmth in the words Ned Stark uttered.

"Perhaps that's true for some but I'm the Lord of Winterfell, should GreatJon not want you there it will go against his oaths of loyalty to honor House Stark's commands."

Another moment before he added gently. 

"One day you'll be in your fathers chair, you've just as much need of these lessons as my son."

Theon couldn't speak for a moment so he stuttered out like the proper ass he was.

"That....That's mighty kind of you your grace...Lord Stark."

Ned nodded.

"Your like brothers as it is. With you by his side I know my son is safe."

"I can defend myself!" Robb piped in sounding mildly offended. As though Ned had just said the young man still had need of a wet nurse. 

It hurt Theon a bit. Fighting beside Robb on the battlefield was a fever dream he knew but its what would bring him joy. 

"Aye, your father knows you can but better to keep a kraken on hand just in case." Theon commented. 

"Not as though Snow would be much help, he's never liked a girl more than his hair. Doubt he'd risk a sword slicing it clean off his head." Theon japed. 

Robb chuckled a bit as did Bran and Rickon. Lady Stark smiled at the jape too which spurred him on to continue until his eyes found those of Sansa and her father. 

Ned looked annoyed. Disappointed perhaps. 

Sansa? 

She looked as though she wanted to leap across the table and stab him with her fork! Such was the fire that burned in the blue eyes he wished would look at him with tenderness. 

He couldn't hold her gaze for long and broke off to look to her sister.

Arya wasn't laughing but she wasn't shooting him a deadly glare either. 

He'd call it a win if the look of pure hatred from Sansa had not troubled him as much as it did.

At least he still had Robb. 

His brother in every way but blood. 

Rodrik Greyjoy had been killed by Lord Jason Mallister beneath Seagard castle during his families rebellion. 

Would he have been like Robb? Would they have gone off to settle the affairs of every banner and lordling pledged to them? 

No.

Because they'd been outnumbered ten to one and not even Robb could have won the day. 

Perhaps if they'd summoned a Kraken to make the northerners tremble in fear. 

If they'd been Targs, they'd have summoned a dragon to burn the whole lot of them even if it had been a hundred to one. 

Finally his gaze turned to look back at the table Jon Snow had occupied but found it empty. 

Finally the bastard leaves! Theon cheered to himself.

"Thats enough, Greyjoy." Ned Stark chastised.

The word that came from his lips was indeed that of his house but Theon, father drown him in the sea, wished it was Stark.

The meal continued on for a few moments more before Theon again looked on as Sansa reached across the table for something that wasn't the beast he'd killed.

"Does the meat not sit well with you Sansa?" Theon asked. 

She looked back at him and Theon felt smaller than he could remember ever being. 

"Don't trouble yourself Greyjoy. I'm not hungry for meat at the moment.." She explained as delicately as a noble lady could.

Before he could respond however, Arya jumped into the conversation to add her own thoughts on the matter.

"If you keep eating so much you'll get fat."

Sansa looked embarrassed. Tears appearing at the edges of her eyes. 

Arya seemed not to notice or else wasn't looking at her sister at all because she continued.

"Your teats keep growing like they've been and we can sell the cow."

The room went silent.

Sansa had tears streaming down her face which had gone the same shade as her hair. 

A wicked smile appeared on Sansa's face as she barred her teeth like a wolf would do and yelled out.

"Least I have breasts. Everyone thinks your a stupid boy!" Sansa shouted.

"Girls!" Catelyn rose from her chair but Arya continued.

"Least my clothes fit on me. Its no wonder you've put on weight when your too lazy to even attend the stitching circle half the time." 

Arya had hated the stitching circle. How could she be more attentive than Sansa? 

Sansa stood from her chair and grabbed an orange, throwing the fruit to hit Arya clean between the eyes. 

"Enough!" Ned Stark's voice rose a moment too late to stop the attack. 

Then Arya wiped the mess from her face and stared her sister down before to the shock of all at the table, Sansa put her hand to her mouth and ran from the room. Tears falling freely. 

Theon looked at the patriarch of House Stark but he seemed genuinely confused about the whole mess as any of them. 

"I hate her! "

"Arya!" Catelyn admonished.

"Listen to your mother. She's your sister and your words and actions wound her as they do me." 

"But..."

"Not another word Arya. Clean yourself up and await your mother and I in your rooms. We'll discuss this further in private." Ned spoke shooting a glance Theon's way that made him feel like an outsider. 

Sansa's actions had been odd ever since her ten and third name day but she'd not fought with Arya in some time. 

Would he have fought with his sister as Arya did with Sansa? 

Asha GreyJoy. 

His last sibling. 

His dear older sister who's face had become a blur like all the rest of his family. 

He'd heard nothing from her in nearly eleven name days. 

Would she remember him? Had she forgotten him completely?

Theon for the first time in a long while, wished to go to the home he'd been taken from. Wished to break fast with his sister and have a true meal amongst family. 

He turned from Robb and the others to wipe a tear from his face. 

Ned Stark hadn't seen Theon's weakness as he'd risen and the powerful sound of his footfalls echoed through the halls as he went to find the oldest Stark daughter.

Theon looked back at Jon Snow's vacant seat and cursed the bastard once more. He'd turned Sansa against him and tossed Arya aside without a care. 

He knew in his heart he'd never toss Asha away even if she'd be a complete stranger to him now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't sure about going with either Asha or Yara Greyjoy until I compared the book version with what we got on the show. So much was cut from her character that it felt wrong not to go with the book version. Ashamed to say the chapter was originally written with Robb/Ned/Theon all going to the dreadfort because I'd forgotten about house umber! :( 
> 
> Picked up Seasons 3 & 4 of the show for ten bucks a piece on black friday. Hope everyone had a good thanksgiving. 
> 
> Thoughts and comments always welcome.


	8. Ned I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned goes to discipline his daughter but thinks better of it.

NED I: WINTERFELL

Ned Stark's footfalls echoed through the hall as he made his way to his eldest daughters room. His mind awhirl with shame and annoyance in equal measure.

The war between Sansa and Arya had not abatted with time, even as Sansa had warmed at long last to her half brother.

Cousin

His mind screamed. They were cousins for Lyanna had birthed Aegon the sixth of his name as surely as Elia or Cat had birthed their brood. 

'Promise me you watch over him. 

Promise me you'll keep him safe. 

He's got a destiny brother, you must put him on the throne. 

Rheager saw..'

And aye he'd agreed to all those favors asked by his sister. Promised his blood that the child from her loins would be protected from harm. 

A small simmer of anger, the seven damn him for it, rose in him at the thought that a young babe was to foisted on the throne.

Jon did not deserve that kind of life. 

The life that swallowed his mother and tore the relm apart. How many good men had he known, friends some of them, who had nothing more than kitchen knives or hoes with knives tied at the end as crude spears. Did those men still live?

The answer of course was no. They'd believed his sister kidnapped, her honor besmerched by a mad kings son. 

Sometimes he felt guilt for not telling Jon the truth. The chasam between his wife and himself had been harder than he'd imagined. 

Like all things it had softened with time but Cat dare not let Jon think too highly of himself, for bastards coveted all their true born's possessions. 

Ned thought of the young girl at the Vale who asked him when he'd had occasion to visit, where her father was. The look of unbearable hurt that crossed her face when he'd had to tell her he knew only that her father was in kingslanding. 

Mya Stone had stopped asking about her father when she'd reached ten name days, a solemn expression was worn many a time now when Ned had reason to go to the Vale. Lysa, Cat's sister was nothing like his good wife. She too cared nothing for the bastard in her keep but paid even less heed to the small folk or high born alike. Ned could scarcely believe his Catelyn was related to the woman Jon Arryn had married and bore child with. 

Mya was a few years older than Jon but the thought of them together grew in his minds eye. Would Robert allow it? The girl was a bastard after all, she could never hope for better in this life. He could set aside a small hightower and give his 'bastard-son', the coin and men to build a keep. Perhaps then he could watch over him still while keeping Jon in the family still, with a life far better than a simple bastard of a high lord. 

Better a snow capped mountain of stone for a sigil than a three headed dragon. 

Would Jon agree to such a match though? 

He did not have time to think on it as he approached the door to his daughters chambers. A servant opening and closing the door in a rush, noticing him with a start.

"My lord." The small waif of a woman greeted as she bowed low. Far lower than Ned thought reasonable.

He was not a Lord that thought himself one of the seven nor so vain that seeing those not born into castles grovel brought him joy. 

The small folk worked for their Lord, yes. But it was the Lords duty to keep them safe and treat them kindly so they would stick by the Lord through good times and bad.

"As you were. How is my daughter?" Ned asked. 

He could already deduce that he'd have to hear his girl scream bloody murder at Arya. Blaming the poor girl for all of what had transpired just as she'd done many a time before.  
It pained him that his girls could not get along but he would not let that show through. They would learn or....

"My Lord, she's in hysterics. I tried to calm her best I could but she refuses every soothing word. She's beside herself with grief."

Grief?

That stayed Neds hand.

How could his eldest have gone from angry and insolent to a blubbering wee girl in the span of only a few moments?

"Grief? Your sure?"

"Yes, my lord. Mayhaps you'd have me fetch the maester for milk of the poppy?" The young girl asked.

Maybe he would give Sansa the soothing remedy but not before he could be sure of matters himself.

"You needn't worry, I'll see to my daughters needs myself. Should she require a maester I shall fetch him."

"Yes. Of course your grace." The woman courtsied as best she could and turned on her heel back toward another end of the castle.

When she was out of sight, Ned clasped the nob on the door to daughters room and entered without announcing himself.

The sight that greeted him made him freeze but a moment. 

Their was his daughter, knees held to her chest as she leaned against her bed. Tears flowing freer than he'd ever seen since she'd been not much more than a babe. 

Her eyes darted to his own as she lifted her head to meet his gaze when she'd realized she'd heard the door open. 

"Sansa...." He began. His voice wasn't steel nor did it have the annoyance he'd felt but a moment ago in the halls. Or the anger at his little girl for how she'd behaved at the table.

"Father!" Sansa croaked out and launched herself at him, small hands wrapping around his frame in a vice, her hug was one of desperation as Ned felt her body continue to wrack itself with sobs. 

"Sansa? Its alright dear girl...I'm not angry with you...I" Ned began at a loss for what he may yet say to placate her unexpected display. 

"Why am I so rotten father? Why doesn't she love me as a sister should ? Its because I'm terrible I know this but...but...oh father please tell Arya I'm sorry."

He rubbed her back to sooth her, guiding them to sit down on her bed so she need not struggle to stand. 

The daughter who prized her appearence and proper etiquett of a lady, above all. Had beeen found soiling her clothes with tears and a running nose. He'd not have believed the words of it if he'd not seen it himself. It scared him on some level even. 

Here he'd been given to the notion Sansa cared nothing for Arya but not even Sansa would go through such an elaborate ruse. 

It was plain that Sansa was remorseful. 

"Are you sorry for what you did to your sister?" 

At this Sansa looked away and muttered. 

"What was that Sansa? Speak properly to your father, I'll not have you mumbling words against your sister."

Sansa' s head whipped around so fast he'd thought it fly from her body. 

Bloodshot eyes looked on him with horror as a fresh cascade threatened to spill from them.

"Against Arya? Why....why would I say anything against her? I'm the one who's ugly father....she's right isn't she. My breasts are too large...I..." She suddenly shut her mouth  
as if realizing who she was telling of her body. The redness in her face told Ned all he needed to know. 

Ned turned his daughter so she would face him and put his hands upon her shoulders.

"Sansa. My good daughter, no man in all the seven would think you ugly, nor does your sister mean those hateful words."

Sansa looked at him with eyes that clearly doubted the wisdom of his words.

He'd not speak of his young daughters body though. That was for the girls mother to explain. 

"Your growing up faster than I'd like but none can stop the passage of time sweetling. Wish that you would stay small and ignorant of the failures of men. Even good men."

Sansa was still buried in her books and tales of knights taking sweet maidens before the Sept. It was not something he wished to rob her of but it would be torn from her none the less. 

"Your brother and I shall go to meet with House Umber to see to the threat beyond the wall. Hopefully it is nothing more than the ravings of lads green to wildling raids."

Sansa nodded her head.

"I'll await your return father...I'll pray for your saftey as well." She added quickly.

His little girl despite herself was ever the dutiful daughter. It filled him with pride. 

"Thank you daughter."

He embraces her in a hug once more before stepping back and standing up from the bed. 

"Maester Luwin speaks highly of your love for books. Aye, I told him. She loves her knights and poems."

Sansa blushed slightly and looked down at her hands, fiddling with the fabric of her dress.

"Imagine my surprise when he told me of the books you've taken from the study. Histories and books of numbers far beyond what a lady should have need of."

Sansa paled and looked up at him with anxiety plain to see.

"I'm sorry father....I'll stop...I"

He frowned.

Why did she not defend herself before him? Did she think him ashamed of her reaching for more?

She may look like her mother but she has some of her Aunt in her as well. 

Lyanna had never been comfortable following tradition. Being caged to do as a lady should. As their father prefered. 

He missed her terribly and thought it had only been Arya that took after her. 

I was wrong. Arya wishes for a sword while Sansa wishes for knowledge. 

Robb had neglected his lessons that was true enough. 

Theon has read more about my own house than I have. 

The thought wasn't shameful though, he'd welcome any to know the deeds of Northmen long parted from the world. 

The North Remembers. 

Now one of his own children was struck with the same passion as his ward but could make no use of it...

Unless.

"Sansa. Would you like to get away from here for a time? To do our house a great boon?" He asked her.

"What do you mean, father? Aren't you and Robb doing that already by riding north?"

"We are answering the call of those pledged to our house as they would for us. No. The boon I speak of is from Lord Manderly."

"I don't understand father. What can I do for our house that involves the Manderly's?"

"You can take my place with your brother at your side."

"Robb's to go with you..."

"Not Robb. I have another son just as old and just as wise. The maester told me that what you've read you've made Jon do the same. Together I'm sure you'll do as fine as Robb and I could hope to."

He paused a moment. Smiling at her now as she she seemed to abandon all her silly worries and tears. He was glad for this change.

"Mayhaps even better." 

Sansa rose and threw her arms around him.

"Thank you father! I'll strive to make you proud, I swear it!"

He was about to bid his daughter good night and seek out Jon but he appeared like a ghost in Sansa's doorway.

How had he not heard him? 

That door surely must have made some noise when it had been opened?

"Lord Stark. I've come make sure lady Sansa is alright."

Ned felt warmed that Jon and Sansa had grown close. It had not been proper for Sansa shunn Jon as she had these many years past but the poor girl only did as her mother asked.

"Aye, She's alright now but I'm glad you'd care to check on your sister, Jon. It makes this easier that I don't have to search for you." 

Jon tensed. 

That was odd. Surely the boy knew that he'd done nothing improper by him. 

He was not Catelyn after all.

The boy did not do wrong simply by breathing air.

"Have I done something to displease you father?"

Father.

With others around it was always, Lord. 

Alway too formal for one to ever think them family.

"You've not Jon. I was telling your sister here that she is to take my place for the journey to White Harbor. Trade between ourselves and the free cities will do us good for the winter that is to come. Should Umber not be exaggerating than we shall have all the more need of it." 

"Oh. Congradulations, sister. I'll be sure to pray for a safe jounrey for you." Jon said as he turned to address the girl he thought his sibling.

Knowing the truth would do Jon more harm than good. 

Sansa was having none of Jon's sullen tone though. 

Niether was Ned for that matter. 

Shouldn't he be happy for her? 

"Jon! Its wonderous news! Father has bid that you come along as well. Your to take Robb's place as I'm to take fathers." Sansa spoke happily.

"But I don't....what need of you for a....for someone like me to accompany your true born daughter, father? Surely Lord Manderly will not approve?"

Bastard. That was the word Jon had been about to say. 

The word Catelyn would undoubtedly utter many a time tonight in their chambers before sleep took them. She'd already argued Jon should have been sent away when his name days came to number ten and six. 

Seeing how he'd grown for the better thanks to Sansa's aid, Ned had not the heart to break Jon from his family.

How can you think so low of yourself when I know you've read the same words in the same books as your sister? 

"Maester Luwin has told me that your sister and you have partaken of the same books. Did these books not also have numbers and knowledge that would be of use at Lord Manderly's court when trading with the free cities on our house's behalf?" 

"Aye, they did my lord. Sansa has a better grasp of high numbers and the ways of the free cities than myself though. I'd just get in the way of it."

Ned couldn't stand this sullen man in front of him. He'd heard Jon sing once or twice for the girls of Sansa's knitting circle. That man had laughed and carried a tune better than anyone in the castle. Yet you'd not know it to look at the young man now.

"Then with your sword then. You'll protect your sister should anything happen on the way to White Harbor. I'll have carriages packed for the journey and we'll speak of this no more, Jon." Nedd said sternly. Irritation meant for Sansa now returning to fall upon Jon. 

"Aye, my lord. I'll see that no harm comes to your daughter." 

At least he seemed adament about something, the poor lad. 

"Thank you father, Jon has never been to White Harbor, I'm sure he'll enjoy all it has to offer." Sansa pointed out. Shooting her brother a look that Ned could not discern. 

Jon turned his gaze from his sister to look at him and inclined his head in thanks.

"My sister speaks true, I've not seen White Harbor. Perhaps she has a point. I'm sorry for doubting your wisdom, father."

Did Jon aim to steal every moment he could to declare his parentage? Surely Jon was not so starved of it that he need remind him a dozen fold. 

Before either he or Jon could say more however, Catelyn appeared beside Jon and the young lad bowed. 

"Lady Stark." 

"Snow." She said simply.

Ned frowned at the coldness of the greeting but knew it was not to change. 

Jon turned to both himself and Sansa now. 

"I bid you goodnight Lord Stark, Lady Sansa." 

Sansa had no qualms. 

"Goodnight brother."

She calls him such to vex Cat. I'm sure of it.

Catelyn for her part simply narrowed her eyes at Jon as he retreated back the way he'd come.

Then it was his turn to depart, hugging his good wife before he left Sansa's chambers. 

"Thank you again father. I'm sure Jon will be enamored of White Harbor and serve you well."

Catelyn Stark wore a face of confusion as her daughter began to tell her what he'd tasked her and Jon with. 

The confusion gave way to anger that dissipated only when Sansa began to speak of Arya's words when they'd broken their fast. 

Ned took that as his time to leave his wife and daughter to speak of things only women could teach one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the trip across the narrow sea is getting delayed.  
How was my writing Ned Stark? 
> 
> Right now White Harbor is slated to be the last arc before stuff hits the fan.  
Also making ample use of a dictionary and thesaurus to improve quality but feel free to point out any mistakes.


	9. Sansa III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Jon leave Winterfell and Journey to White Harbor. Nothing goes as planned nor as Sansa would dare hope.

SANSA III: WINTERFELL

The carriage was prepared and ready, Sansa prayed her mother and father could not see through her ruse. Could not see the eagerness to be away from Winterfell. 

"You'll send a raven at each stop to let us know your safe." Her father asked

"Yes, father. I'm sure with Jon and the guards I shall be fine should anything happen. My brother will protect me." Sansa says with confidence. 

Hopefully he'll do a fair bit more once we are alone at last! Sansa mused. 

Why does Jon have to be my brother? 

"Are you sure you don't want someone else to travel with you? What would the Lords think?" Her mother pleaded with her as though Jon was some leper. Some plague to shield herself from. 

What would she say if she'd seen them earlier that morning before the dawn broke? 

Sansa Stark of but three and ten name days ridding her bastard brother to peak and taking her brothers seed into herself? What of when she'd crouched in front of Jon and taken him into her mouth like a common whore and swallowed his seed as she ran her tongue down the length of him?

Sansa felt herself grow red but she prayed her parents mistook it for exasperation. 

"I'm nearly a woman mother, how can I help my lord husband if I do not know the ways of the realm, especially that which I come from?" Sansa asked. 

Her mother didn't seem pleased. 

"Aye. Jon is good. No harm will come to Sansa, Cat. Let the poor girl see White Harbor with her brother." Her father soothed.

Her mother's face became one of disgust. 

"That boy had best not allow anything to happen to our daughter Ned or I'll beg you to send him to the wall."

Sansa felt her heart sink. All the red vanishing from her face to be replaced with a paleness that went beyond that of her skin. 

She must look like a ghost. 

He can't leave me! I won't let you! We love each other!

Catelyn Stark saw that she was distressed but misread the why of it. 

Of course she would!

"Rest easy, Cat. I've sent twelve good men and a carriage with extra supplies to travel with them. Would have been quicker for them all to simply ride on horse..."

"Atop a horse is no place for a lady, Ned. Sansa will travel in manner befitting her station or not at all." Her mother said as she stared at her father. A test of wills going on between them.

"Aye. Jon will ride with them and keep watch alongside the carriage."

He would be outside the carriage. Away from her. 

She admitted she'd be asleep for much of the journey but when her eyes were open she wished for them to stare into Jon's. To feel him beside her as they'd been these past moons. 

The feel of his hands on her own, the touch of his lips. 

The way her heart would race as only Jon could make it. 

"But father. Who will I speak with to pass the time? Surely my brother is as skilled a sword as any of your sons. As good as Rob even!" 

Her mother looked incredulous, like she'd swallowed something bitter. Her face was contorted in a look of shock followed by anger.

"Don't compare Rob to your father's bastard, Sansa. Its not proper."

Sansa wanted to argue back. Wanted to shout that Jon was just as good as her other brother. 

Though she'd never fathom laying with Rob, with Jon she knew their could be no man who could love her so completely nor protect her so fully. 

"Your mother has a point but you and Jon have gotten along far better than I'd ever dare hope. Your growing into a woman, Sansa. I'll not begrudge you wishing to spend time with your family."

"But Ned!"

Her father turned to her mother and simply spoke with words like steel.

"Enough, Cat. The two shall travel in the carriage and I'll not hear of this again." He turned and looked at her with a smile tugging at his stoic face. Sansa was glad of her father for putting Jon and her together for the long journey. 

Would you do so if you knew what we will do in that carriage?

Sansa ignored the thought and enveloped her father in a hug, smile upon her face as she nuzzled herself into the man that had once seemed like he could take on all seven kingdoms. Her father had always been her protector and the best of House Stark. Surely as good and honorable as any knight who'd ever had the title. 

But her father was no knight, he was a lord, the warden of the north who everyone relied upon. Everyone looked up to. 

Now she would go to White Harbor with her brother and negotiate trade deals and hear of the Lords grievances as though she were the Warden herself. 

She didn't want to be the wardeness of the North. She couldn't fathom such a thing. It wasn't proper for a lady like herself, but sometimes she imagined what it must have been like to be one of Aegon's wives riding upon dragon back. Sitting on the Iron throne same as their brother, the king. Would she like that? Could she do it?

The image that flashed in her mind as she leaned forward to receive a half-hearted embrace from her mother was not of Aegon or his wives. 

It was her and Jon sitting on a throne together. A throne much like her father sat upon, she in Jon's lap as she fed him grapes. His hand secure around her waist, her middle protruding with child...

Sansa blinked before she waved such childish thoughts aside. 

Her breasts may have grown larger, blue veins and darkened nipples evidence enough she was becoming a woman for true, but she'd not hide from the fact they must stop once she bled. 

But why should we? Perhaps a Lord could take Jon as a squire or some such, she'd see him every day. They'd make love to one another and......

Her mind reeled at the scandal of it. 

She would take Jon's seed and pass their child off as that of her husband. 

That would never work!

The folly of it assaults her and she finds herself saddened at the thought of stopping the coupling She's taken to having with Jon more and more frequently. 

She greedily has taken his seed as often as she can, the warmth of him inside her being impossible to resist for long. 

She tugged at her cloak and bowed before making for the carriage and smiled when she saw Jon pass her. He walked up to her parents and undoubtedly received harsh words from her mother. The woman truly hated Jon. She didn't even know him yet she had blamed that wonderful boy, now a man grown, for all the sins of Ned Stark and who ever had laid with him. 

Her sex ached between her legs just as her breasts did, their growth had made them tender but she would give herself again this day to her beloved if it meant Jon could feel love.

Her love.

She noticed that Arya ran up to Jon and hugged him tightly, willing him not to go. 

Sansa felt the tears threaten her eyes once more. How could she be so cruel to her sister, to take away the brother Arya had accepted without reservation while she had ignored Jon at every turn over the years.

Rob was next alongside Bran and both exchanged words with Jon. 

Sansa wished to know but another part of her did not. She wanted Jon in the carriage with her. To pull shut the curtains and be alone with him. To have him all to herself, letting none have him besides herself. 

Finally he came strolling back and walked ahead to the carriage to hold the door open for her. 

She waved goodbye to her family alongside her brother. They all smiled and waved back save for her mother who looked beside herself with bitterness. 

As they waved goodbye and made it out the main Gate of Winterfell, their fingers entwined and she felt Jon squeeze her hand. 

The simple touch had her on edge again. Warmth flowing between her legs as she closed the curtains to give her and Jon privacy. 

"What did they say Jon?"

He looked sheepishly at her for a moment.

"Lady Stark wishes that anything should happen to you, I'll find nowhere safe in all seven kingdoms nor the lands across the narrow sea. She was very specific about what should befall me should you get hurt."

Sansa felt guilt that she could not shield Jon from her mothers harshness, harshness she had brought about by arguing for Jon to be with her now.

He looks at her a moment before his hands reach out and cup her face, she moves forward, the feel of his hands on her face soothing her more than any fairy tale could.

"I'd deserve it too. If anything happened to you...I'd never be able to forgive myself...I.." 

He never finished the words as her lips press against his, she runs her tongue along his lips begging for entrance which he grants. 

His arms move from her cheeks to her waist and he pulls her to him, hand running up her dress, along her thighs. She's gone without a shift and his hand grabs hold of her backside. 

They continue like this for a few moment before they need to break apart to breath. 

"When I'm with you Jon I'm the safest girl in all the seven kingdoms." She leans in to kiss him again. 

His hand finds its way between them, rubbing the heat between her legs. 

"Oh Jon...I'd never feel as safe as I do when I'm in your arms. We could go to Bravoss or beyond the wall and I'd know I would be okay so long as your with me." She confesses in earnest. 

Why must we wear clothes? Why can't we be as we were this morning, tangled around each other with him inside me?

"Sansa...Stop...someone could hear us...we're barely away from the castle..." He begs her. 

But she can feel him beneath her. Knows that he has grown stiff between his legs as she has grown wet with need. Why should they fight it? 

Because if the guards catch us we'll be carted back to mother and father, Jon will be sent to the wall or worse.

"Alright...but.."

She doesn't get to finish as she hears a slight knocking on the coach's door. 

Quicker than she'd thought possible, they break away from one another and she hastens to flatten the creases in her dress, to will the flushed look of lust from her face. 

"Aye" Jon calls out bidding the man to intrude upon them. 

A young guard not two or three name days older than Jon opens the carriage door and quirks a brow,  
sniffing the air of the carriage a bit before shaking his head and looking to her.

"Just thought I'd ask if you have need of anything lady Sansa, we'll not be stopping for a while. Best to get your fill now should you want anything." The guard asks not bothering to ask Jon yet if he required anything. 

I'm the only one that matters to these men even if the same blood runs through my brothers veins. He's just a bastard to them.

Another moment and he would have caught Jon inside her! She'd been about to undo Jon's trousers, she'd been hungry for her love to couple with her. 

A moment passed while she thought of the man's question but found that she did want something.

"Would you mind stop sir so I can....I'm afraid I had a bit much to drink before leaving. I'm sure you understand." Sansa said as she struggled to keep an air of formality about asking to go relieve herself behind whatever bush or tree was near. 

The man gulped and seemed to come to some conclusion because his posture changed from one of suspicion to that of embarrassment. 

"Of course my lady! I'll let the guard know, their is a patch of trees just ahead."

"Thank you. Erich Tethers was it?" She asked unsure if she'd memorized the name right.

"yes my lady, its kind of you to remember me."

"It wouldn't do for me to not know the men charged with protecting me, good sir." She said as she leaned forward a bit. 

She saw his eyes leave hers for the briefest of moments to look below her face, below her neck. 

He thought she didn't notice. 

"Protect you we shall Lady Stark! I'll let the others know we are to stop. Thank you again my lady." The guard said before closing the door and leaving her and Jon alone once more.

The look Jon wore on his face was one of jealousy, his face red with anger and his eyes threatening to burn a hole through the carriage door if he stared any harder.

"Jon...I'm sorry, your right I shouldn't have done that...but I really do have to make for a bush...."

"Why did you drink so much ? This isn't the first time you've had to leave me for the privy or have me turn round while you use the chamber pot. I have ears as good as any you know." 

She flushed red with embarrassment at the notion he had heard her as she pissed away a seeming endless stream of liquid. Like a waterfall she kept on and on, two or three times with some managing to come right after coupling. 

If I didn't dump the chamber pot myself, would the servants have found Jon's seed amongst the waste water? 

She dare not chance it.

Sansa was glad when the carriage stopped a short while later and let her out to gather her thoughts. 

She'd almost risked it all! 

Her mind and body had tricked her into believing they couldn't be caught but that guard had nearly done exactly that. 

As she crouched among the bushes and let the stream pass from between her legs she found herself glad she'd asked the names of the men charged with protecting her. 

As the last of her earlier drink left her body, she tentatively touched herself between her legs and felt her sex was engorged with arousal. 

She longed for Jon to touch her but now felt like a fool. 

Better to sacrifice a few days at most than have them be discovered.

Her body had started growing in earnest only a moon or two ago, she simply wished someone had told her how tender her chest would feel.   
How her nipple's would darken and point outward with the smallest brush of fabric putting her on edge. 

Jon doesn't mind my body. He likes that I'm becoming a woman. 

I shall be happy if I don't bleed for many more moons yet, let my breasts hurt twice as much if it means more time with Jon. 

The memory of him pulling her hands from her chest and telling her how she was beautiful after she'd first begun to change, still etched itself in the forefront of her mind.

The stream between her legs had ended but her fingers now filled her where Jon had been unable to. 

She put a hand to her mouth to stifle a moan as she fell on her backside and rubbed herself rapidly into euphoria. 

When she was done she felt exposed and worried someone may have seen even if the guards had all stayed well away back at the carriage or tree on the opposite side.

She knew what she missed most in the moment however was that the man who brought her to this feeling was back in the carriage instead of cradling her to his chest.

Jon loved her and she him. She prayed silently to the gods that she should become a woman in all ways save to bleed, least for a few more moons. 

The pain of being parted from Jon would be too great she knew. 

Even after she became a woman, having bled, she wasn't sure she wanted to cut Jon off. 

"I'll father no bastards..the world is full enough of them as is. No need for one to spawn another." Jon had declared in earnest. 

Had Jon known those words stung as they did when he'd said them? 

She'd begged for him to put a babe in her but he'd pulled out just as his seed had begun to spill inside her. 

Warm thick droplets of seed had smeared her sex, stomach and chest as well as getting in her hair. 

She was still cross with him for that particular mishap. 

That's when he'd told her that when she bled he would will himself to stop. 

That was the first and only time thus far she'd turned away from him and feigned needing to sleep. 

She'd waited until Jon had left her chambers for the walls to come down and the tears to spill from her eyes like a great rain. 

Sadness had gripped her then only to give way to anger. 

How could the idea of a babe made of each of them, two wolves rutting in rapture, be so bad? Did he think she couldn't make babies that were good enough. Was he ashamed of what they had? 

The anger had come too with all she'd done for him, all she'd given to him while they lay with one another. The time she'd spent to teach him how to write poetry, play the harp and sing songs that lifted her heart. 

Was that all nothing to him.

Sansa recalled the look of hurt Jon had worn when for but a few hours the following morning she had acted as her old self. 

Her mood shifted near midday and they'd talked some but not enough for Sansa's liking. 

That hadn't stopped her from accepting his apology or accepting the chaste kiss he'd risked in the halls where any might have happened upon them.

He'd been both brave and stupid but She loved him for it.

Sansa straightened her dress and pushed aside recent memories to walk back to the carriage, greeting the guards as she went before closing the carriage door. 

Jon looked up at her having been lost in thought. 

He gave her a warning look that pleaded for her not to try anything but it faltered as she sat beside him and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Sansa? What are you doing? We can't.."

"Just hold me and let me sleep a bit, love. I'm terribly tired all of a sudden....and you were right. We should save this...." She reached out and put his hand down her dress to cup her tender breast, moaning at the touch.

Jon didn't move but she did. 

She turned her head and captured his lips with her own before kissing him on the forehead as he had done for her countless times now when their love making ended. 

"We'll have time enough in White Harbor, Jon. We're together and that's whats important. I don't think I could do this alone....some days I simply wish to lay in bed but knowing I'll see you when I open my door brings me the strength to shake off my slothfulness. "

Several days pass by in a blur as Sansa spends much of her time resting against Jon or else stealing private moments of affection. She's fallen asleep leaning against Jon when it happens.

The sound of men shouting startled Sansa from her slumber. 

Instantly she looked for Jon and found him rising as well, hand on the pommel of his sword, a grim look upon his face as he blinked away the sleep they'd shared.

"Jon what's happening?"

"I don't know!" He whispered back at her.

He rises further and goes to put his hand upon the carriage door.

"No! Stay with me...please, Jon don't go. What if they come and your not here? What if.."

"Sansa!" He shouts for her to be quiet. 

Why is he yelling? Why doesn't he stay here? 

Jon's features soften a fraction, a hand cups her cheek and he leans into her to place a chaste kiss upon her lips. His forehead leans against her own as he speaks to her in a calm voice. 

"The guards need my help. If they fall it will be just myself and I'd never forgive myself if harm came to you. Please, Sansa. I'll be back..."

She didn't want him to leave her! He belonged by her side to shield her from whatever was going on outside. 

But what was it that had befallen them? Bandits? Assassins? Wildlings? 

"No....Jon...Please, I'm scared...don't leave me. Please, love." She pleads, hearing her own voice break and feeling wet tears slip from her eyes. 

He wipes them away with his finger, continuing to cup her cheek. 

"Please sweetling, you must be brave. No harm will come to you so long as I breath....I'm the knight in your dreams remember." He adds with a smirk, doing a piss poor mummery of Theon's japes. Except his tone is wrong. He says it with such solemness that she knows he believes it to be true. No king had knighted him but he would act as such for her. 

Only for her. 

"Come back to me...." She demands as she lets him go, sounding more like pitiful whine to her own ear than a request. 

He turns to leave, sword drawing from its sheath. 

"Jon....I love you." She declares, a sob stuck in her throat as she feels as if she'll collapse into tears. 

"Not as great as the love I feel for you, Sansa." 

Not lady. Not sister. Sansa. 

She moves to follow him but he pushes her back down and jumps through the carriage door before slamming it shut. 

More shouts follow and she can hear the clashing of steel upon steel. The swears of men trapped in a dance she's only known in books. 

But its not supposed to be like this! 

The villains were supposed to fight in grand battles or challenge one another in tourneys of honor and valor. 

This was neither and she suddenly felt like a fool for supposing it would be. 

Her books did not speak of the fear that gripped her, the racing of her beating heart nor the way she felt bare in only her noble attire. 

A dress's fabric could be woven from gold and adorned with rubies but it would not stop a blade. 

She tries with all her willpower to stave off the images that come to the forefront of her mind but they come without regard for her. 

She's skewered with one sword then another. Men without faces, more blurring shapes of flesh than actual people, run her through again and again. 

She watches herself fall and finds she cannot breath but for the next images. 

Jon laying beside the carriage with eyes that stare ahead into nothingness. 

'Please Warrior, watch over Jon and guide his blade true.' She prays. 

Invoking the gods brought another stray thought to her mind. 

Were they being punished? Her and Jon, for the love they'd shared. Their near daily coupling a sin to the gods she now begged for help. 

I've....I've killed him. I did this....I....

Then a knock comes. Twice more it sounds and She hears a voice on the other side. 

"We've cleared the bandits sister, please stay inside...tis not a sight for a young ladies eyes. 

He's alive! 

She swoons with joy, her terror giving way to shame. 

How could she have doubted him? 

She grabs at the handle to the carriage door and shoves it open, startling her brother who was but a few paces from the carriage.

"Jon!" She shouts going to envelop him in an embrace before her eyes fall upon his clothes. 

She stops cold, unable to take another step.

They are stained with blood! 

He's hurt! By the seven....he's bleeding, what if its fatal? Why would he be standing and tell me not to worry?

Because Jon Snow only thinks of others and never himself. Even when they lay naked entwined in bed, joined below the waist, her brother cares for her needs first. 

Always.

Robb's lessons were more important than Jon's own education. Her mother's disdain more important than Jon's own happiness. 

Now he'd put her first as he did for everyone else and been hurt!

Would the gods be cruel and take him from her? Would his wounds fester only for him to expire so close to White Harbor? 

"Its fine Sansa. Its not my blood." He tells her at last. 

Something in her breaks and she rushes to him, putting herself against him and kissing his cheek as she buries her head in the crook of his neck. Tears fall as she trembles, sobs the only sound she makes as she struggles to speak. 

His arms wrap around her, holding her tightly to him.

"Its alright sweetling. They didn't cut me. I'm safe. Your safe." He says. 

The guards approach, perhaps they will gossip about her. The way a sister holds her brother like a drowning sailor clutches at floating debris to stay above water. 

To hell with them! She thinks. 

They are not her brother. They are not Jon snow. They are not her lover nor her friend. 

Its only herself and Jon in this moment and she'll be damned if they rob her of it.

Jon leans forward and whispers in her ear. 

"Its alright, Sansa. Just breath."

She feels his hand rub her back in soothing circular motions until sobs no longer bedevil her. 

A guard captain steps guard and she recognizes the man but can't place the name. Not with all that has happened. 

"Lady Sansa. Snow. The danger has passed, you need not fear." The guard says with a calming voice. 

She can tell the sight of them has the man confused. 

Does the whole of the North think she despises Jon? Do they think of him like her mother does? 

Anger comes not in a wave but in a simmer. 

She pushes herself from her brother to stomp up to the guard. 

He towers over her and is a man of ten name days come thrice over but she doesn't care.

"How many attacked us, captain?"

"Keller, my lady. Seems to have been a local tribes, mayhaps it was hill folk or such. No more than a dozen men between them."

They'd been outnumbered!

"How did they know we were coming?"

He scratches the back of his neck and speaks, unsure of the answer he gives her. 

"....We don't believe they did my lady. We found plenty of coin on them and their way of dress is a mess of colors and styles. Assassins wouldn't be so amateur in their work."

What the Seven would you know about it! How many assassins have you fought while my family kept you safe at the castle? 

She wants to scream the words. Berate the man. 

Suddenly she feels light headed and turns around, bending her knees as the content of her stomach fall upon the ground. 

Jon is beside her in an instant, holding her hair back and saying sweet words to sooth her. 

His hand is on her shoulder, steadying her but she knows he would surely put it on her waist if not around her completely but for the presence of the guards. 

Wiping her mouth on her sleeve, her dress already ruined from the blood she'd got on herself from Jon's clothes, she turns back to the guard captain.

"Please sir....are we close to White Harbor?" 

His eyebrows knit together and his face soon brightens upon finding the answer.

"Yes my lady, we shall reach it before the sun sets. We're very nearly there."

She nods at him. 

"Thank you sir, please keep an eye out. I'll trust my brother to protect my person should they come again." She curtsies before he follows decorum and bows slightly.

Jon nods his thanks to the guards but doesn't follow immediately. 

She looks to see her savior inspecting the bodies and pockets of the dead.

"Jon what are you?"

"If they weren't bandits I'd like to know...but if that is all they be. They've no need of their coin."

Her eyes go wide.

"Jon...that's not honorable."

His face darkens.

"Aye. I've done many a deed I know to be dishonorable." He's looking at her and she can't help but feel worry. 

Does he regret them being together? 

Will he tell her to stop now rather than wait for her blood.

"But I never attacked a young woman's carriage nor made her cry in fear for her life. Gods be good I'd sooner be dead than be that sort." He says as he slips the coin purse into his pocket. His eyes never leave hers as she watches him do it.

He stands fully and walks toward her, helping her up into the carriage before closing the door. Sealing them away from the prying eyes of the world before the carriage begins to move again.

He moves to speak but she presses her lips to his.

Her arms envelop him and she holds on as though he'll disappear should she let go.

"I was so scared Jon! The sounds...the thought of what they'd do to me. To you. Oh Jon I couldn't bear it." She weeps.

"Hush sweetling. We're alright. No one can harm you so long as I'm beside you." Jon reassures her.

"But what if they'd come in greater numbers?" She can't help but ask.

His face freezes a moment, his eyes open and close before he grips her tighter still.

"I'd have cut you a path and made so you could run as far away as possible. All the way to White Harbor if need be."

Why would she have run off without him? Wouldn't he have guided her to White Harbor?

"You'd have been with me though, right Jon? How else would I have found my way?" She asks not understanding.

"You'd have found safety as sure as snow falls in winter, love. Your smart as you are beautiful, that much has never been more clear." He declares with adoration in his eyes.

He continues before she can speak.

"I'd have missed reading your poems, missed feeling anxious as you read mine. Aye, the sound of your voice when you sing songs of cheer."

She feels a terrible foreboding in her core. Her throat constricts to the point she can barely manage the words but she manages in the end.

"You'd have missed nothing because I would never leave you....as you would never leave me."

His eyes go wide.

"Sansa, what does it matter if a bastard dies to bandits? Your a high born lady....your the woman my heart beats for. My life is nothing without you in it so I'll gladly give it so yours continues."

She slaps him, the sound echoing in the carriage. 

"You stupid bastard! How could you!"

He looks hurt, angry and ashamed all at once but her vision blurs with tears as she launches herself at him. He falls to the seat behind him with a thud and she refuses to get off him.

Her small hands become fists and she pounds at his chest again and again. 

He says nothing and that only infuriates her more.

"How can you think so little of yourself when I'm the one who gave you my maidenhead. Your in this because a foolish girl brought bad fortune...because my heart overcame my mind. The gods may curse us but your life is precious Jon! Don't ever tell me that it isn't....you've made me the happiest woman in westeros but that all goes away if your dead."

She nearly shouts the words at him but for the knowledge of the company outside the carriage. 

"How can you possibly think yourself at fault? I'm your brother, true born or not I bear just as much fault with the gods if not more so. By the Seven Sansa I'm three name days your senior. I should've stopped it...." He says, looking away from her.

"Why didn't you?" She asks. Voice trembling. 

"Because I didn't want to. Because you've made me happier than anyone ever has, ever could hope to."

He keeps telling her pretty words as his hands hold her tightly to him. She lets herself fall into the embrace, atop him. She swears she can hear the sound of his heart as his chest rises and falls. 

"I knew nothing before that day in the crypts. Three moons ago we crossed a line we shouldn't have but I feel no regret. Truthfully I'm glad of it. The thought of losing you to some Lord in a moon or two fills me with sorrow."

She moves her head and looks him straight in the eye. She can see the tears falling from Jon's eyes and she goes to wipe them away as he'd done for her. 

"Even when I'm married off I'll take you with me....I'm sure father could be persuaded."

He smiles at her and kisses her deeply, his hand coming to rest behind her head, fingers running through her hair.

He breaks the kiss when she goes to deepen it.

"Aye. I would love nothing more than to be with you always my love but we can't stay in this dream forever. Our father and lady Stark would never hear of it. She already frowns upon what she knows of....if the rest ever came to be known."

How can he throw away what they have? 

Why doesn't he fight for her, for them and make a challenge on her behalf.

She knows why though.

Because this isn't a fairy tale. 

Their are no grumpkins and Snarks. No white walkers or chivalrous knights. 

Jon is what she imagines a knight should be but no stories ever told of a knight that robbed the dead. 

"Run away with me!" She begs.

"What?! Are you mad Sansa, where would we go?"

Her mind raced to find a solution.

"We're about to be in White Harbor. Lets greet Lord Manderly and Walk around the Keep. In a fortnight we could disguise ourselves and slip aboard a ship, disappearing across the narrow sea."

She feels confidence building inside her. She can imagine it as if its already come to pass.

"You with your sword and I with my sewing. I could apprentice as a seamstress. 

She pulls her hands from Jon and leans back to better straddle him. Her hands taking his own. 

"Imagine it Jon. A new life in Pentos or Bravoss....perhaps even Volantis." 

And then she lets herself go truly mad.

She puts his hand to her belly. 

"When my blood comes we don't need to stop.....I...I can give you children Jon. Our children."

But Jon doesn't take her in his arms. He doesn't smile and plot alongside her. 

Something breaks inside her at the dawning realization he shan't be running away with her. 

Because even if he's not a true born Stark. Even if he hates her mother. 

Jon Snow is the most like their father out of any of the Stark children, more so than even Robb. 

"I love you Sansa...truly but we can't do that to your mother. To our family. Robb and Arya would never forgive us and Bran wouldn't understand. Rickon would miss his older sister's watchful eye and our House would never recover from the scandal of it." 

She feels tears threaten her eyes but she's cried too much already. She must surely look a wreck to behold.

His hand leaves her stomach but pulls her back down to him.

"I love you Sansa. When we get to White Harbor we'll delay speak to Lord Manderly. Make up some excuse. We'll take our supper together and lay together in bed as man and wife should. I'll not leave until the morning light."

She nods her head and the scene he paints is one that warms her heart but its poisoned by the knowledge it will not last.

You know nothing Jon Snow. 

She wants to shout but her strength deserts her, she leans down to capture his lips and soon drifts off to sleep. 

The sound of Jon's voice whispering sweet nothings as he holds her to him, her only lullaby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is actually Sansa III and IV but while editing the new chapter I figured it would be best to make up for the drought in updates. Please leave comments and let me know what you think of how the story is developing. Ignorance is bliss but its not going to last and some rocky times are ahead for Jonsa. 
> 
> What I'm really struggling with as I'm writing is figuring out how Danny will react to Jon and Sansa.   
Been getting more over time at work but I'll try to have a new chapter out before the week is up.
> 
> Thanks again and hope you enjoy the story.


	10. Jon III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon spends time with Sansa in White Harbor.

JON III: White Harbor 

The slow rise of the morning sun was not far off when Jon felt himself stir awake, supple flesh pressed against him as he awoke to find himself in bed with his sister, Sansa. 

Their clothes long discarded upon the floor of the well furnished room, Lord Manderly had so graciously gifted his Lord fathers daughter. 

The chill of the ocean air made him wish to remain beneath the thick furs that concealed both himself and his sister from both cold and prying eyes. 

Thank the gods old and new I sent the guard off to drown himself in drink or we'd not gone long before discovery. John thought with a grin. 

He pulled back the covers some and shivered a bit, willing himself to run his hand over Sansa's growing body, which now sported a firmness above her naval, clutching at a breast. 

Sansa moaned in contentment, turning her head over to look at him. Eyes still clouded with sleep. 

“Good morning, Love.” She smiled and leaned forward a bit.

Jon leaned forward to catch her lips with is own, a slow kiss grew into yet another coupling. 

Sansa's hand found its way to his member, squeezing the head of his erection with viger before deft experienced fingers trailed down his length to cup his balls. 

Jon could die happy if these were his last moments, though death was the furthest thing he wished on his mind.

Her tongue met his own and their mouths became a jostling mixture of one another breath and spit as they set to devouring one another. 

The furs came off to pool at the end of the bed, leaving them both naked as their name days. 

She's the most beautiful woman in all the seven, how could any man think less? Jon thought as he eyed were widened hips, full backside and heavy breasts, all adorned in an alabastor skin as white as his name sake. Her long auburn hair drapped down to the middle of her back while a thick patch of curls had grown fuller between her legs. 

Sansa had nearly died of embarrassment when he'd pulled such a souvenir from between his teeth and flicked it to the ground, telling a curious Bran he'd had bits of his last meal still stuck between his teeth.  
His brother Robb had looked at him oddly, having heard only half the conversation. 

No one else had seen Sansa blush, a caughing fit had overcome her and distracted everyone away from his odd behavior. 

Undoubtedly the hairs between his lovers legs were matted this morning, their numerous couplings in the night having seen to much spilled seed. 

Do I even have any to give her? Jon couldn't help but ask himself. Surely he was a fool to do so, but Sansa had been more taken to resting for spells of time as of late.

“Good morning my sweetling.” He said as he squeezed her breast firmly, his forehead leaning against hers as her half lidded eyes stared deep into his own. 

Those eyes held such love for him. 

Not a love of the coupling between them nor of family but something deeper. 

Jon wondered if it was the love of a man and wife. 

Perhaps it had been too much, last night they'd scarcely spent time with Lord Manderly and his family before they'd gone to their rooms. The terror of the bandits still fresh in both he and Sansa's minds. 

If they'd have killed her, he'd have not wanted to return to Winterfell.

If Sansa had ceased to breath, he would have found no respite for his sorrow. 

The pale body before him still shrouded in darkness before the rising of the sun, was one he wished to never be parted from. 

But then he'd be a true bastard wouldn't he? To steal away Sansa and fill her with a babe would rob her of too much. The inter-workings of court that he'd scarcely begun to fully grasp from the books they'd read together, had been like second nature to his sister. 

Sansa turned from him now and pressed her backside to his front, lifting a leg so that he could find his way more easily inside her. The warmth that engulfed him laid to rest any doubt that he may have another go in him for the day. 

His arms worked wrap around her, her own hand grasping at his bare ass, pulling him closer to her, deeper if she could manage it. 

“Jon.....please....I need you.....”

His lips find her collar bone and trail kisses atop her bare skin, lightly sucking on her neck before their lips find one another. 

The room hadn't smelled of the debauchery that was the night before thanks to the open window that overlooked the harbor below. 

Now?

Sweat was building between them and he could hear the wet slap of flesh against flesh as they rutted into one another in earnest. 

He could feel himself reaching release, a final thrust all the work it took to undo him completely, his senses deserted him and he felt Sansa tighten around him. 

For but a few moments they basked in the after glow of their morning love making, their eyes lust blown and lidded as the sounds of their heavy breathing filled the room. 

He ran his hand along her body and felt that she continued to grow fat around her belly, not much but it was there and had continued to swell. Nothing compared to her other changes but he doubted her dresses would fit her much longer if it continued.

She'd seemed to sleep later and be more selective in her meals than he could recall, though she did eat more helpings than even he. 

Perhaps all women required more food when they left their girlhood behind. 

Jon didn't know or truly care to know the plight of the fairer sex, only that it would spell the end of these precious moments. 

Where that he could quit his sister so easily but found it impossible. The shame of it had died slowly but it had died as sure as all things must.

His mind recalled Sansa's words back in the carriage. 

Could they really run away together? If she but dyed her hair with dye from Tyrosh and cut it short, perhaps they'd not recognize her as they sought passage to Pentos. 

The darkness grew lighter as the sun began its inevitable rise but Jon felt Sansa move to leave their bed. 

Her bed as far as anyone else was concerned.

He'd have to leave soon, dress himself properly to look as though he'd slept in a chair for the night. 

“I'll be back in a moment, love.” She said as Jon was treated to the sight of her body walking away from him, the sway of her hips causing him to stir once more. When the privy door was shut, he felt himself glad this room had such accommodation. 

Feeling himself restless he rose from the bed and swung his legs round to plant them firmly on the wood floor. With one fluid movement he rose to his full height. Stretching lazily as he did so. 

Walking toward the window he could make out the light coming over the Harbor below, a slow illumination that would signal the rising of servants and fresh guards in due time. 

The privy door opened and Sansa appeared standing in its doorway, his eyes tracing her hips and sex before stopping on her full breasts, nipples pointed like diamonds. Her hair fell over her breasts hiding them somewhat but he thought it in vain, given her sex was unabashedly bare before him. 

She sauntered over and stretched likewise before pulling him into an embrace. Nuzzling him as she played with his hair. That they stood nude before an open window didn't enter her mind or else she'd have scampered back under the fur blankets. Jon was sure of this yet when she leaned in close to whisper, he couldn't hide his shock.

“Make love to me.”

She asks in husky tone.

“We just did Sansa. We should get dressed before the servants rise, most will be getting to their duties about now.”

She looks away from him.

“Is my body not to your liking?”

She's worried that if she grows much larger I'll no longer fancy her? Jon realizes with some bemusement.

His hands grab her by her ass and pull her to him, a firm squeeze eliciting a yelp of surprise form Sansa.

“Everything about you is my liking love, especially the way you've grown. More for me to enjoy.” He says with a wink before bending down to suckle at her breast. 

He thinks he tastes something on his tongue when she pulls him off her. 

Breathing in deeply she hesitates before turning and walking to the window, stopping just short of peering out. She braces herself, hands out and pressed against either side of the window, her body bent forward as she spreads legs and wiggles her hips.

Jon's body betrays him and he's walking behind her and taking her like the wolves they are, her moans however stop him after a few moments. 

“You have to be quiet dear sister!” He says in a low voice.

She bucks against him in protest.

“Then hurry, Jon. We haven't much time....”

Why did you insist on carrying on right at the window then? Jon would much prefer Sansa chosen to return to the bed and ride atop him, as was her favored position for their love making. 

Was she more dareing because she thought he'd grow bored with her?

He ran his hands from her rear, grabbing a handful of her left breast and squeezing the supple flesh, kneading sansa's hardened nipple between his fingers as he worked. 

“Jon...oh...jon please don't tease me!”

How could he dare dream of such a thing? Jon felt the cool air on his body but his passion did not dim, it only grew as he felt Sansa's body hold firmly around his own. 

Leaning forward he felt her back arch against his chest as he hoisted her to him, continuing to enter her as he pleased. The morning sun was creeping out upon the waves of the harbor for that much they could see through the window. 

Should anyone stare upon the window they too would catch a sight. That of a pale red headed girl naked as her name day, teats swaying any who dare look.

Jon remembered how tall and grand the new castle had seemed in the night and was glad of it, now more than ever before. 

Sansa continued to make noise as the sound of her backside slammed into his front. 

The polite lady was nowhere, a ravenous she-wolf was before him now instead. 

“Shhh. Sansa they shall hear us if you don't quiet down!” He pulls her head to the side to look at him, his lips upon hers, silence reigning for a moment.

Coming back from the kiss is what Jon imagines it must be like for the sailors who will tend to the cogs, carracks and other assorted ships of the sea. For what can be sweeter in this world than the feel of Sansa's lips upon his own, save for the gasping breathes of a man nearly drown. 

But he does come back from the kiss. 

Sansa's eyes are half-lidded but they hold his gaze all the same. Surely he must look like a lust-crazed fiend himself. 

“....Jon, hurry before the sun is fully risen. Be with me...just a while longer. Please.” She says the last word almost pleading. 

She does not mean for him to be with her as he is now. Jon has grown enough from written words upon bound pages, to know his sister's words. 

Half-sister. His mind wants to think but he's not thought of any of his siblings as such and he'll not start. 

Being beside his eldest sister had taught him to know her like he would know Rob's foot work or Bran's love of climbing. 

She hungered for his seed true enough but it was their quiet moments like the one they'd shared though the night. Holding one another, a tangle of limbs that may as well be one body. The sound of her heart beat as she slumbered against him. 

He'd never play any song as breathtaking as Sansa's heartbeat, gods old and new could grant him dozen lives to compose such. He had no doubt he'd miscarry the task. 

He put his forehead against her own, their noses rubbing in a way that reminded him of her youth. 

Caw!

Startled backwards, Jon nearly fell flat on his arse which would've dragged Sansa down with him. 

A crow sat perched on the window, looking at the Stark siblings curiously. Its head turning this way and that. 

Sansa's face revealed nothing til she turned to look at him, giggling like a child. 

Was I really that funny to behold? 

The sun was rising still but had not yet bathed the harbor or New Castle.

“Look Jon, a crow has come to steal your beloved lady away. What say you, brother?”

The words would have shamed him once but he found they had no power. 

They'd laid together as much as any Targaryen he figured, he'd nearly lost her the night prior and he'd never leave her side. The sight of her saying vows beneath a wierwood to a man that was not himself, would sting but it was the way of things. 

Wish that I could lock us away in Lord Manderly's guest quarters, gods and men be damned. Jon thought ruefully. 

Nudging her forward, Jon put Sansa once more to the window, practically spilling out of it. Her hands finding purchase on either side of the opening as his own wrapped around her growing middle, his pace continuing as before until it grew hurried. 

The crow did not move away when they'd approached. It did not spread its wings and fly when Sansa began to sing her praises of Jon's endeavor upon her body. It did not utter a word of protest when confronted with the sight of Jon Snow spilling inside Sansa Stark. Brother into sister. 

When Jon took Sansa's hands in his own and swore once more his love for her, did the intruding bird at last leave.

************************************************************************************************************

Some time shortly after, Jon left Sansa's chambers as the guards were due for rotation. He prayed he did not smell too plainly of sex. A word to the guard that Sansa had suffered night terrors from the incident on the road was enough reason for him to have come from her chambers. 

They knew the eldest Stark daughter fancied her bastard brothers company, thank the seven they knew not how much. 

If Sansa and he had been born to a different family at a different time, they'd have minded not at all. Lord Manderly would have not cared one penny for what dragons did between the sheets.

As Jon walked to the quarters that had been prepared for him, he tried to imagine Sansa with silver hair and purple eyes. 

He found he cared too much for her Tully features, namely her hair which turned back to its normal color in his minds eye. Surprisingly this did not apply to his sisters eyes which remained violet, albeit a lighter hue than he'd imagined for himself. 

More changes heralded as he saw the woman's face morph til it only resembled Sansa's own. A room now housed the girl, polished marble finer than any he'd yet seen rose in great columns on either side of a throne that towered high above, behind the girl. The young woman could have been Sansa's age but Jon knew nothing for certain in this addled dream. 

The girl smiled at him with such love, Jon felt himself taken aback. From the shadows on her right side came a great beast. A wolf.

That's a direwolf! Jon mused in shock. 

How it made no sound, he couldn't understand but he had no time to make sense of it as a second creature appeared. A small creature landed atop the girl's shoulder, it breathed fire as it flapped its wings and leaned into the touch of the woman at the center of Jon's vision. 

That a dragon! Jon wanted to shout. 

“Watch it!” a voice hollered and Jon found himself back in New Castle, a very annoyed Marlon Manderly, looking down upon him though he were dirt. 

Jon straightened and had tact enough to bow low to the cousin of the lord who's home they resided in.   
If he were true born though, Jon couldn't fail to recognize, Marlon mayhaps would be the one bowing.

The man stood at six feet tall, easily eclipsing Jon. The commander of White Harbor's garrison, was not as rounded as his cousin but he was rather stout, Eyes as grey as the man's beard dared Jon to make any move that was not contrite. 

“I apologize Ser Manderly for my transgression. My haste to see your city left my head preoccupied elsewhere.” Jon said as he bowed to the noble that stood before him. 

The man even at this early hour was dressed fully in armor as though he'd not thought it the least bit contrived. 

Who would break fast in the morn, dressed in armor? Did Lord Manderly seek to intimidate Jon and his sister? 

“Your Eddard Stark's bastard, are you not?” 

Jon bit the inside of his cheek to dull the insult. Why could he not simply be called Snow? 

The yearning to be Stark had left him, for the most part. Still that did not mean he wished to be refered to as bastard in place of his father's name. Bastards married and had children just the same as any man and woman who lay with another. If he took a woman as his, would their children take his name and be assumed bastards by all they encountered. 

Jaelar Snow. Alyra Snow. Rhaegar Snow. Visenya Snow. 

“Aye my lord. I am the child of Eddard Stark” Jon affirmed, trying to keep his emotions in check. 

Ser Manderly seemed to deflate somewhat. His grey gaze was not one consumed by indignation as it had been a moment ago. 

The man seemed almost apologetic as his gaze softened some but retained the slightest hint of a man on edge.

Aye, Jon knew plenty of men like his sort. They kept themselves closed off but alert, expecting the world to do them no favors, especially favors promised by unfamiliar faces. 

“Just make sure you keep your head about you while your here, Jon Snow. My family is sworn to your house but we'd expected it be your father and brother who would visit.” 

Was that a snub at himself or his sister? 

Perhaps it was both. 

“Lord Stark and his heir were called away by the Umbers, else they'd make every effort to be here in my and my sister place.”

“What could possibly draw Lord Stark from attending court at White Harbor in favor of the damp desolate north?” Ser Manderly asked perplexed. 

“Best Lord Stark told me it was wildlings growing bolder. Rumors of the king beyond the wall must have reached you, Ser Manderly. Your Lord should be weary of their reaving as much as any that calls the North home.” 

Manderly would not have it.

“Foolishness. But its good of your lord to send someone to address the matters dear to those sworn to house Stark. Perhaps the Stark sent on his behalf will also be along shortly?”

Jon was no Stark. Had his father sent only the bastard from the children born to him, it would have seemed a grave insult. 

Jon thought of Sansa resting peacefully beside him the night before, such was that these thought threatened to uproot him from Ser Manderly's questions. 

How Jon wished he'd not left but it couldn't be helped. 

The world he and Sansa shared with each other felt like a dream. 

Sometimes the dream seemed real. 

The world was cruel to dreamers. 

Aegon had dreamed of conquering Dorn and lost a sister-wife for the trouble. 

Had that dragon felt like he was dreaming when he laid with his sister as Jon did with his own? 

“She was left deeply shaken by what transpired on our travels here. She did not rest as well as she might have otherwise. My sister does thank you for all you've done to accommodate us thus, Ser Manderly.”

The grey eyes widened a bit before the man put an arm on Jon's shoulder. 

“We are sorry for what happened to your sister, write to your Lord that I'll see those remaing bandits found and hung before you depart White Harbors walls. 

Jon nodded. 

“Thank you Ser, my sister will be glad of it. I'm sure she's risen by now and will be most eager to see your Lord. She will make sure Eddard Stark knows you've sworn to put the sword to those who'd harm his family.”

“Thank you, Jon Snow. I shall look forward to seeing her in person. Best she hears the words from the commander of garrison than a green boy.” 

Did the man mean Jon himself or a young guard wielding a trident with inexperienced hands. 

******************************************************************************************************************

The day wore on as the sun grew higher in the sky. 

Jon admitted that the city put Winterfell's own markets and shops to shame. 

Everywhere he went he saw men in cloaks of blue green wool, silver tridents held in place of spears. 

That had seemed most unusual but not as much as the young girl with green dyed hair who'd come to introduce herself to him as he'd made his way out of New Castle. 

Wylla Manderly. 

The granddaughter of Wyman Manderly, who would be engaged before long as despite her high pitched voice and delicate frame, she was not far from Sansa and himself in age. 

Perhaps Sansa would find a budding friendship with the young woman. 

He was not blind to the way the Manderly girl looked at him as he'd described the events that befell them yesterday. 

Even if he did not have Sansa in his heart, he'd much prefer the young woman have someone her equal.

Would Robb take a mermaid as his wife? 

Jon thought it a good match as he carried on walking the wide cobbled streets, whitewashed stone laid down for all to walk on just as it also made up the Harbor's high walls. 

From towers and high buildings everyone could see Stark banners fly alongside those of House Manderly and Baratheon. 

It made Jon feel small. 

He should be happy for his sister and their family but instead he felt like an outsider. 

He'd do his best to keep away from Sansa while Manderly kept her occupied at court. 

Should they dance at court as they did when they'd taken to practicing, well more like Jon tripping over himself while Sansa kept a maesters patience, he'd not be able to conceal their bond.

He followed the path recommended him by the twenty foot statue that sat in a fountain in Fish foot yard. 

Old Lord Fishfoot the locals called him. 

Even speckled with dropping of bird shit, Jon wondered if such a fountain could be made at Winterfell. 

He'd read some about such things in books borrowed from maester Luwin. 

The idea of twenty foot high stone wolves serving as the centerpiece for ornate fountains would be the stuff of madness. 

Sansa would be keen on them though. 

They'd need not build them so high or costly. 

Surely a maester somewhere would know how to pipe water from the springs below the castle to small wolf statues. 

A bath house! 

Jon grinned to himself as he imagined how all his family would make good use of such a thing. 

The sight of his sister sitting beneath cascading waves of warm water flowing from statues resembling their Houses sigil made him hurry to enter the shop that promised fried cod crisps. 

Food would banish thoughts of Sansa from him, least those that had her in nothing but her own skin. 

As he took a seat at the back of the room he took stock of the worn tables. It was obvious no one came for the decor of the establishment. A serving girl who looked to have seen her tenth name day come thrice over, approached him and took his order. Her clothing was plain yet a size too small to hold her, he looked away from her as she spoke on. 

He waved her off with copper and a request for ale while he awaited the food that smelled like nothing he'd ever tasted from Winterfell's kitchens. 

A man sat at a table beside his own and was making short work of a second plate. A slim woman with hair like wheat was hanging on his shoulder, barely covered by fabric that seemed far too rich a place such as this. 

The man who was darker than most Jon had seen, simply turned to regard him before noticing something and beckoning for Jon to join him at his table.

“Welcome to my table young wolf.”

The man seemed to lack for nothing and spoke with an accent Jon could not place. He was surely no Westerosi though. 

“Do I know you sir?” Jon said as he sat down opposite the mysterious stranger. The woman beside the man looked him up and down like a cat is fond to look at mice. 

“No friend but I know you. Jon Snow, son of Eddard Stark and brother to Sansa Stark. A pity bandits found you on your journey here.”

Jon's hand went for the hilt of his blade but did not draw. He'd no idea what this man meant for him but he doubted Lord Manderly would take kindly to him drawing first blood. 

The man's eyes flickered to where Jon's sword was beneath the table but the smile did not leave the odd man's face. A smile greeted Jon instead. 

“Fear not friend. I've no wish to harm you or your sister. My business is nothing so ugly as that. My business is parting men of their coin and giving them something to entice them to do so. Be it fine wine, women, furs or anything else my ships can carry in their holds.”

A merchant!

Jon could've smacked himself twice over for what he'd nearly done. 

“Aye. I'm Jon Snow sir but I'm afraid you've not told me your name sir?”

The man laughed and squeezed the breast of the woman beside him as he raised a glass of wine in toast. 

The barmaid was as silent as the faceless for Jon didn't hear her approach. She poured him his own cup before leaving them alone once more. Jon raised the cup to meet the merchants. 

“May fortune smile upon this encounter. Fate has brought Salladhor Saan and Jon Snow to White Harbor. Surely it was for more than sharing fish and drink in company of mermaids.” Sallador said boastfully. 

Jon drank deeply and began to speak to the merchant who called himself a pirate lord among other titles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took more effort than I originally thought it would but now that its out of the way and several changes have been made, we can get back on track. Meant to have this out over the weekend, sorry for the delay. Will post another chapter soon. 
> 
> Not a 100% on how to portray the pirate lord but am rereading and re-watching GoT. How did this chapter go?  
Its not my best work but felt bad for such a long delay, especially since I've been writing past it.
> 
> Criticism, especially constructive criticism is welcome.


	11. Cat I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all comes tumbling down.

Catelyn I: Winterfell

The breaking of fast early in the morn, found Catelyn in good spirits. For the lady of Winterfell could lift her head high in the knowledge that her eldest daughter would soon be back safe inside the walls of the castle Starks called home. 

Winterfell. 

An impregnable place of large stone walls meant to withstand siege from Greyjoy, Bolton and wildling alike. During all its existence, only the Dragons of the Targaryens had made it mute, only the Castles of the Vale and Westerlands made it look plain. 

But it was her home, as much as she missed River run and her siblings. Lysa and Edmure had long stopped sending ravens, the pain of that break down in communication didn't hurt though. How could it ?

My children are my life and my lord husband is good to me. Certainly as good as Brandon would have been. 

But would he have foisted a bastard on me? Would he have dishonored me, his loving wife whom he had already married?

The tears such thoughts caused did not come this day. She was determined that her eyes be as dry as sand. It wouldn't do for Arya or her sons, Brandon and Rickon, to see her in such a state. 

Thankfully they were too preoccupied flinging bits of food at one another, hot porridge cooling in front of them. 

"Bran, stop playing with your food, son. Its not proper for a young lord." 

"But I'm not a lord...not yet. Robb is to be the next Lord of Winterfell. I'll be a Kingsguard." Her eldest son present, declared with so much zeal it made Catelyn smile. 

"Be that as it may my son, Kingsguard must act as proper as lords if they are to guard the king. I'm sure Joffrey wouldn't want someone who plays with their food like a child, protecting them."

Bran looked down at his food, having the sense to feel shame. 

She didn't want to chastise him so but the boy was old enough now. 

Where had the ten name days gone to? How had they come upon her like a rushing wave, washing over her in mere moment only to be gone as quickly as it had come.

Ned and her were not yet too old that they may not have another child but she doubted her body would take to such a notion. 

Bran was still young. Arya and Rickon remained her youngest. 

Arya. 

The sweet girl was not the proper lady she ought to be nor did it seem she cared to ever learn. Catelyn had caught her playing with sticks, swinging them as if they were swords!  
The wayward girl had enticed boys from the kitchens into her game of mummery swords, much to her shock and dismay. Arya had pleaded with her to not send them away but Cateyln knew it had to be done.

What would any lord say when they came to speak of betrothal? 

She had a fine if rebellious young lady in Sansa but Arya despite much work, still wanted nothing of what her sex and station demanded. 

As Catelyn continued to watch on, the morning meal grew colder with each spoonful she took for herself.

Her family was her greatest warmth, she'd sooner shovel hot coals into her mouth for all her days, would it but keep them all safe.

The images in her minds eye of a much younger Lysa and her, playing with Peter by the river. Eating cakes and chasing after one another as only children could. Affections she mistook at the time that had grown in years later to land the poor boy she thought of like a brother, marred by a deep scar. 

But those moments came later. 

Arya as usual was first to finish her meal, the lack of her older sisters presence was felt all the more now as Septa Mordan could devote all her time to overseeing Arya. 

A time or two Arya had already been chastised for staring out over the expanse in front of the Gatehouse or atop the parapets. 

Were the poor girl like her younger brother, Bran, she'd have no doubt her daughter would have found herself atop one of the many towers that rose to overlook Winterfell. 

This she could forgive her daughter though, just as she forgave Bran the same for actually risking his neck in pulling off such foolish stunts.

She could still remember keeping watch as a young girl whenever her father would Riverrun. She'd pledge to awaite his return. 

Every time. Every trip weather they be for matters of peace or battle. Her father would return to her, because even when he may not always arrive when he'd promised, he always did arrive in the end.

She'd had half a mind upon getting Lord Manderly's raven, to order her daughter be brought back to Winterfell with heavy escort. 

But the Lord who'd sworn an oath to her husbands house, spoke only of praise for Sansa. 

'You're daughter has a finer head for numbers than my own maester. Lord Stark was wise to send her here on his behalf.' 

That letter had barely spoken of the raid that had put Sansa in danger! 

It truly galled her but she would not take these last moments of freedom from her daughter. 

The girl may not be the obedient and proper lady she had always been before but she was still her daughter. Catelyn Stark had grown up with trials of her own and perhaps it was good of Sansa to distinguish herself some. 

But why had it been with her bastard brother? 

She'd dare not waste much in the way of thoughts for the spawn of Ashara Dayne. 

She wanted to hate the boy and she had for many years. Only the near death of the boy to fever had made her aware of how spiteful she'd become. 

So she would not hate him but neither did she feel an ounce of affection for the consummation of her husbands infidelity. 

For his betrayal. 

Every time she looked at the boy, all she could think of was how Ned had wed and made vows he'd no sooner broken. 

Had Ned thought of her at all when he'd laid with the temptress that was Jon's mother? 

Was Jon the only one? 

Ned had held her in his arms at night many a time after the war against the mad king, telling her it was not so. That he had but one bastard child. 

Catelyn had begged him to send the babe away to be raised by what remained of his family in the south. 

When that had failed she had tried again when the boy was nearly ten and two name days. 

Again Ned would not hear of it. 

Thank the gods he had the sense to at least to keep clear of the boy when those pledged to his house came to call on him. 

Catelyn continued her watch, her sons Bran and Rickon both finishing their meal with all the lethargy they could muster up. 

She smiled when her boys faces fell at the entrance of Maester Luwin to the great hall. 

"Lady Stark." The wisened man said as he bowed respectfully. 

Ever the faithful servant to his house but Catelyn dared to think he was more a friend to her and Ned. 

A father figure in some ways to the young boys who had need of lessons only a maester could teach.

"Maester. Your looking well rested this morn. Do you truly think my daughter shall return so soon?"

Luwin smiled at her and the children.

"I do, Lady Stark. The captain of the guard made it a point to heed your words and send ravens at every stop."

"After what almost befell my daughter, could you truly begrudge a mother for demanding such?"

"No my lady, it is good of you to care as you do . I've thanked the gods twice over for your daughter's good health, mayhaps this will be the end of a young girl's thirst for adventure." Luwin said with a wry smile. 

He thought her a doting mother hen but had sense enough to show her the silver lining to Sansa's brush with danger. 

After all, what lady would wish to leave the safety of a castle after so violent a brush with death? 

The maester had told her of Sansa's slothfulness. She'd missed lessons for the sake of educating her bastard brother in subjects far beyond his station. 

Ned had said it was good of Sansa to tutor and befriend Jon Snow but Catelyn knew otherwise. 

"Let us hope that it is so, maester. Now I believe two young lords have need of your council." Catelyn said with a smirk directed toward Bran and Rickon.

Rickon, her beautiful boy, had a look of happiness upon his face. A real eagerness to learn was planted there by gods knew who but Catelyn prayed it grew as large as a weirwood. 

Bran on the other hand looked less pleased. 

"Do we have to?" 

Maester Luwin simply laughed.

"A young lord not acquainted with his numbers and letters may as well be no lord at all, Brandon."

Brandon simply huffed petulantly and pushed himself off his chair to follow the maester out of the great hall, dragging an excited Rickon behind him.

It pained her to watch them disappear though she knew they must. 

One day all her children would be gone. She would be blessed, should the gods grant it, with many grandchildren to help raise. 

*************************************************************************************************************************

Hours went by before midday came and the sound of carriages with men on horse alongside, came to her ears. Catelyn had stopped all she was doing and made for the courtyard straight away. 

Arya was there before any of them but that was no surprise. The two boys came next, wooden swords at their sides though she couldn't understand why Rickon should have use of one. 

Whatever else was going to happen with her family or the wildlings, she'd not waste thoughts on it. Her eldest daughter was home!

The carriage door opened and Catelyn's face went sour. 

There he was, hair as tangled and unbecoming as ever atop a face that wore a look that she found wasn't sullen to her satisfaction. A bastard like him should not be riding in the carriage with her true born daughter. 

Arya wasted no time at all and went rushing up Jon, embracing him in a tight hug that made Catelyn's stomach pained. A deep sickness grew to the point she felt herself becoming ill, though she couldn't imagine why. 

Finally the bastard who had cast a spell on both her daughters, remembered decorum and stepped forward to bow to her.

"Lady Stark." 

The words lacked any warmth and she wouldn't have cared if they'd held any.

"Snow." She simply acknowledged with a nod of the head. 

The bastard now turned and put a hand inside the carriage as if to help Sansa out. 

How dare he think himself fitting for such an act! Catelyn fumed. 

Would the bastard ask next to be seated at the table beside Sansa and Arya? Beside Robb? 

Sansa finally appeared, hair slightly askew and heavier then Catelyn remembered. 

Did Lord Manderly seek to make her daughter into a whale? 

As Sansa's feet hit the ground, Catelyn could feel her blood run cold and all the world still. 

Her daughters free hand had laid itself on her growing belly as if by reflex. 

Catelyn looked to Sansa before looking at the girls bastard brother and back again. 

It wasn't possible! 

The irritable moods and growing breasts now seemed obvious to even simple folk like Hodor, but Catelyn had taken no notice of her own daughter's condition. 

Why would she ? 

Sansa was but ten and three name days! 

Sure girls around her age could fall with babe but it was the fate of poor small folk.

Not ladies of noble birth who had sense and heeded their maesters to wait another name day or preferably two.

Catelyn didn't rush to Sansa. 

Arya, Rickon and Bran all cloistered around the returning carriages as Sansa passed out small treats. 

Catelyn heard words and saw people move about her but found she could not move, nor did she care what gifts Sansa had brought. 

She had given the only gift that mattered. 

The stupid girl had been manipulated into ruination by Neds bastard.....he had...

But then she feels Sansa enveloping her in a hug, so unladylike. 

"I'm glad to be home, mother. I was terribly frightened when the bandits attacked. If not for Jon you'd be stuck with only Arya..." Sansa chuckled. 

She wants to hit Sansa and console her all at once. 

She grieves for her poor girl but Sansa has not a clue. 

Catelyn stares ahead at Jon Snow with such malice she hopes the monster before her has sense to feel shame and confess his crimes. 

Jon Snow does have the decency to shrink some but not enough for her liking.

"Sansa embellishes, Lady Stark. I slew but two men, t'was the guards who deserve your gratitude."

What were you doing in that carriage with my daughter, Jon Snow?! 

"My gratitude...." Catelyn whispers, more to herself than Sansa.

Her eldest is oblivious to her mood and pulls back from the hug to obscure her view of Ned's bastard.

"Lord Manderly will receive a boon before Winter arrives, mother. We managed to seal contracts with free cities across the narrow sea. Was that Lord Manderly thanked us in coin instead of pie. I feel myself bursting and fear lemon cakes will not be in my company for some time to come." 

Her daughter says the words with embarrassment but Arya hears enough to break out in laughter. 

Have I gone mad? 

Why in all the seven does my own mind wish to frighten me so? 

She remembered Lord Manderly as a portly fellow who stuffed himself like a glutton on holiday, a hand always in a pie. 

A first, second and third course coming with ever growing portions. 

She'd had occasion to visit when she was younger and White Harbor seemed a gleaming jewel compared to the barren frigid tundra of the north. 

The Lord had sons now who would surely be as fat and round as he. 

Catelyn exhaled a breath she didn't know she was holding and took her daughter into an embrace. 

Her little girl had come home.

Perhaps she was fatter than would be agreeable but it wasn't anything the girl couldn't lose with proper diet.

"Come along and tell us of your journey and these deals you've made with the free cities." She says as she leads Sansa away from the bastard and into the castle.

The last meal of the day comes and goes as does the sunlight. 

It is in Ned's Solar that Maester Luwin finds her.

A small knock is all the request Catelyn receives but she grants her friend entry.

"Come in."

And there standing in the doorway is Maester Luwin who turns but to whisper something to a guard posted outside before he closes the door. 

The man looks aged by ten name days and terribly ill. 

"Are you alright Maester? Do you need sit down, Luwin?" 

Before the maester can object, she's risen from her own chair and helped him into one that sits opposite Ned's desk. 

" That's very kind of you Lady Stark. But perhaps you should sit as well..."

She stands for but a moment, puzzlement marring her features before she acquiesces and sits down opposite the man who had helped her birth her children. 

"You asked me to look over your eldest daughter for the sake of her health..."

"That I did Maester. Pray tell you've come with good news?"

He doesn't respond immediately, mouth opening and closing a tiny bit. Tongue wetting his dry lips before he finally speaks.

" That is entirely up to you, your grace. But I fear it is not."

Worry blossoms anew in her and she imagines the maester is about to tell her of some great affliction.

"Speak plainly Luwin. What calamity has befallen my daughter?"

The words that tumbles from her friend and trusted servant to her house, is like poison.

"She is pregnant." Maester Luwin says gravely.

"No....impossible My daughter is yet a maid, sir."

Maester Luwin shakes his head.

She feels small and the walls seem as if to close in on her. 

Had the solar her husband locked himself away in for hours, always been so small.

"I'm sorry to say this Lady Stark but your daughter is not a maid. I examined her twice over to be sure and could find no trace of her maidenhead."

"Girls lose their maidenheads sometimes when they ride or....."

"I'm afraid your daughter is three to four moons with child, my lady. The changes to her body lend credence that it is the latter."

This can't be happening. 

How can my daughter be with child when she's still one herself?

Her vision grows muddied with tears. 

"Did....could you guess a time, roughly when she came to be with child." 

The maester was alone in his thoughts for what seemed an eternity before responding to her plea.

"Her name day would be likely. When I think back on it I'm ashamed I did not spot the signs sooner."

Sansa's name day. 

The shame and sadness still clung to her like a net of sorrow but if it were the son of a Lord that had dirtied her daughter, they would be sought out and made to do the honorable deed of wedding her little girl at least. 

"Any idea who the father could be? Did she say anything to you regarding the child?"

Maester Luwin looked uncomfortable.

"She does not know that she is with child, Lady Stark. She thought me only concerned for her growing weight and change in appetite."

How could she not know?!

Catelyn wanted to put her face in her hands and weep for her gullible child, for the misery that would befall her. 

What if the child's father was already married or worse yet, a lowborn commoner passing though? 

Girls had been charmed by handsome young men with not a single golden dragon to their name, countless times though history. 

Woe to the women left to raise bastards conceived in lust or misplaced love.

Jon Snow.

She would not have it. 

"I thank you for confirming a mother's worst fear, Luwin. I suspect you still have some moon tea stored away for travels to old town?"

The maester's face went from shock to grief and finally sullen acceptance before he deemed to offer an answer.

"Aye. That I do."

"I'll speak with my daughter tonight of this but I'll have need of the moon tea, maester Luwin. Let us pray it is at least a Frey child that grow in her...."

"Should we perhaps wait for Lord Stark and your son to arrive? Surely he would wish to know of his daughters condition."

How can he not see the truth of what awaits Sansa, should she carry a low born bastard to term? 

She dare not think its Jon Snow's child. The bastard may unnerve her but he'd tried all these years to be more an honorable Stark than even her own sons. 

Please by the old gods and the new let her take the Moon Tea. 

"My husband, your Lord who's house you've served faithfully for many years, doesn't know how to fight this battle. For this is a battle only women may ever know. Ned will understand."

Maester Luwin doesn't seem convinced but he knows the ways of the world as evidenced by his chain.

The maester leaves the room only to return a short time later with what she requires. 

The moon tea seems innocent to look upon. One would never guess its intent. Not like a sword or arrow but it would take life all the same.

She stares numbly at it a good while before taking a candle and walking to her daughters chambers. 

Tonight she would have the truth of it. 

She prayed to the gods old and new the child was that of a lord who could marry her daughter. 

She feared the gods would not answer her prayer.

She tightened her grip around the cup of moon tea but soldiered on as she knew she must.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you all think? 
> 
> What will Neds reaction be to all this, much less the rest of the family? 
> 
> I've tried to portray Catelyn Stark as best I can here but welcome feedback. 
> 
> Hope everyone had a good new year. Feels great to finally post this.


	12. Jon IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon takes responsibility for what he's done and makes a choice.

Jon IV: Winterfell

The sound of knocking upon his door roused him from his slumber. Jon snow had been dreaming of the time he'd spent at White Harbor, itself seeming like a dream. 

Sansa had never seemed happier than when they'd shared a room that first night, indeed it had taken everything for him to remember to not forsake his duty. 

The fur that covered his body felt heavy and damp with sweat though he paid it no mind as he threw the furs from his body to crumple at the edge of his bed, sleep still clouding his mind. 

The room was dreadfully dark but the light of the moon gave him some vision. 

The knocking came again. Rushed but not as loud as it should have been. 

Surely this wasn't that urgent but who in the seven would wake him so early from his dreams? 

Putting one foot down, then another he stretched as he rose and made for the door. 

The light of the torches in the hall shinning under his door dimly, feet obstructing the thin line of brightness. 

Should he don a shirt ? 

If it were his sibling they'd pay him no mind for it. 

If it were his eldest sister, the effort would be wasted. 

A smile formed on his face in the dark of night, his lips curling upward in a wide smile. 

Shaking himself, he returned to the coldness of the night and the sound of a third wave of frantic wraps upon his door. 

Composing himself he made to open the door and found it for naught as the sight of Sansa greeted him. 

His joy turned to ash in his mouth as she did not wait for words to leave his mouth, pushing him forcefully into the room.

The door to his chambers had no sooner shut then he felt his stomach drop at the sounds that came from her. 

Sansa's face was a mess of tangled hairs covering a visage that seemed foreign to him, the joyous laughter and shimmering blue orbs that peered out at him with such love now were puffy and red, tears falling from her eyes as though rains from the sky. 

"Sansa?" He asked in whisper.

She gave him no time to ask more as he felt himself shoved back into the room, a trembling mess of a girl affixed to him as though he was all that was left in the world. 

Jon could do nothing but wrap his arms around her and hold her to him, her body shuddering with sobs. 

He turned a bit and made to look outside his still open door, noting that no guards seemed to have followed the eldest Stark daughter to his chambers. They were alone. 

Ducking his head back into the room with his sister still clinging to him like drowning man to driftwood, he shut the door. Latching the lock in place for good measure. 

"What is wrong sweetling? Who's done this to you my love?" He asked as he rocked Sansa from side to side as though they were dancing. 

She said nothing. 

It was like their first day together, the day in the crypts that began all that was now their lives. 

He was hers forever and always. 

The sound of Sansa's cries finally did long last subside. 

"Jon...Jon can we sit, please?"

"Aye. We can but first tell me who has put you in such a state?"

She didn't respond immediately, still clinging to him. 

"Mother."

What had Lady Stark done to her daughter? She didn't care a damn for him and Jon was fine with such. After all he was but a bastard, a slight against the trust Sansa's mother put in her father. But not even when they'd cast Sansa out for a time did she seem as distressed as she was now. 

Whatever could Sansa have done to warrant such wrath from Lady Stark? 

It isn't right. Whatever she's done, Lady Stark has no right to treat her eldest daughter so harshly. Jon thought. 

"She tried to kill it....oh Jon how she tried" Sansa choked out.

Blue eyes gazed up at his own and he was glad to see a spark shine through the bloodshot ocean of wet tears. 

But what had Lady Stark tried to kill? 

"Sansa, your not making sense...."

He made to move stray hairs from his sisters face when he noticed them, growing bruises marred Sansa's left cheek a great deal. Ugly and garish would they be in the morning. 

Anger rose within him, slow and hot like a budding fire. 

It was a parents right to strike their child he supposed, the seven knew Theon deserved a good thrashing a time or two, but that damned Iron born made an ass of himself enough to warrant such. Sansa? Never. 

Catelyn Stark did her utmost to keep Jon and Sansa from one another but she'd rarely have cause to strike any of her children. 

So vexing was the thought of Lady Stark striking any of her children with the force to cause the bruise Sansa was now sure to have, he'd not heard her words.

"My Child..."

The world stopped. He could hear nothing, not the sound of the wind as it blew against Winterfells walls. 

His heart was in his throat as it beat wildly, no words would find him. He simply stared at her, mouth partially agape. 

She saw all this in him and with trembling hand she reached for his right hand, he let her take it. His body was not his own. It was as though he were a mummery of a man, a puppet on string. He let her move his hand until it rested atop the small growing swell above her navel. 

By the gods! He felt it! 

The firmness of it was unmistakable, had he really been so simple minded a fool to not see through what he'd done?!

She leaned forward and closed the space between them that had grown when she'd stepped back to take his hand in her own. A hand that remained cupping the underside of her swollen belly. A belly that carried a pup. 

A son.

A daughter. 

A bastard. 

Jon couldn't escape the thoughts that came. 

What would father say of this? Did Catelyn know?

Unlikely or else I'd be in chains rotting in the dungeons. He thought with dark humor.

"Our child, Jon. She....mother tried to kill our baby." Sansa mourned as her face buried itself against his chest, his chin resting atop her head as he struggled to console her.

The two wolves had laid together and now like fools they'd sired a pup from their forbidden coupling. 

He was more a bastard the world twice over than the child now growing inside Sansa. 

The Wall would be best for his lot, he'd have packed up long ago had he known he would put his sister through such an ordeal.

'Mother tried to kill our baby' echoed in his mind and brushed aside the guilt that had crept upon him.

The fire replaced it. The building inferno within him now wished to do harm to Lady Stark. 

His father forgive him, he wished to put a blade through his fathers wife and felt no shame for it. 

"What do you mean she tried to kill the baby?" He asked. Dreading the answer.

Sansa stilled in his arms and was deathly quiet for but a moment before she began the horrid tale.

"Mother came to my chambers and told me the Maester knew I was with babe." Her voice was small in the room as though to recall the tale was a trauma.

"I told her that she was mistaken. That I'd not had my moon blood so it was impossible for me to be with child." 

Her hand still kept his own upon her belly and she made to carry it across her growing swell, her thumb brushing his knuckles softly. 

"She struck me then. Said she'd have no more lies from me. The maester found nothing of my maidenhead and I could not lie and say it was from riding. I'm not like Arya after all..."

He forced a smile at her though it was wasted as she did not look at him.

"She said my breasts have grown fat with milk just as hers grew for myself and our siblings. She asked if I'd felt tired and slow to rise with pain in my chest." 

Jon could do not but nod along with the tale. 

How had he not known of this? Not even suspected it for a moment. 

I'm no man. A man would have known the moment the signs appeared. Nay I'm a stupid boy still, six and ten name days be damned or I'm soft in the head. Jon thought harshly. 

Sansa and he were three years apart. Woman and young girls had children true enough but to have one so young would bring fresh dangers for his young sister.

Sister.

They'd not let him see her through the pregnancy. 

"She asked who it was that had done this to me but I couldn't speak."

She moved her head to look at him, her free hand moving to cup his face as he held her.

"Do you love me true as I you, Jon?" 

"Of course I do love. Never doubt the love I hold for you...." Jon spoke up without hesitation. 

"Do you love our child?" She asked, biting her bottom lip as her eyes searched his for clues to his true feelings.

He stepped away from her then and made to kneel before her like a knight in fairy tales of old. He put his head to her small but growing middle and could swear he heard a faint sound beneath Sansa's belly. 

" I can hear the babe, Sansa. It's....It's wonderful." Tears stung his eyes too now as he imagined a child that could never know him as their father. 

It wounded him deeper than any insult to his birth ever could. 

If that I could take the shame of a thousand bastards so that my own would never know of such things. 

Sansa laughs a bit at him as she towers over him, a hand resting atop her small bump, which many a dress could hide but not for much longer he was sure. Her other hand ran its way through his curls. The same curls Jon shied away from cutting that had won him japes from both Rob and Theon that he was like a girl for fussing so.

Would their child have red hair that curled as his own did? 

"Aye. I love our child Sansa, more than I've cared for anything else in all my name days." He declared boldly still pressing his ear to Sansa to hear the child make whatever faint sounds that it could. 

"The babe is still small Jon, I'm sure your mistaken. But I'm glad to know you feel love....if you'd turned away I don't know what I'd have done." She says as her voice grows hoarse and Jon rises to cradle her once more. 

"Never Sweetling. I'll never turn from you or our child." The words fall from his lips and he's stung when she does not look at him but at the floor. 

"Mother wasn't pleased as you are. She...She forced me to....When I confessed I was no more a maid she asked who had done the deed and I told her."

Jon's heart races as he eyes the door wearily. 

"I said the man who'd shown me such kindness was older but held no titles or lands. That he was small folk but had the heart of a knight. Fool that I was to say such." Sansa said derisively. 

"That's...That's when she gave me Moon Tea."

Jon's face was one of confusion more than any anger he might be kindling. If Sansa had drank moon tea then how did she yet hold a babe within her?

"She called me stupid, Jon! I'd not drink the damned tea but she forced it down my throat as though I were a child!" 

How dare the old bitch threaten his child! He'd taken nothing but scorn from her yet he'd never thought her capable of what Sansa now described. 

And Lady Stark had made to kill Sansa's child without knowing the terrible truth of who had fathered it. 

Jon quirked an eyebrow but again Sansa was lost in the retelling of her misery. 

"After she'd forced the drink down my throat she bid me good night and said I'd thank her. Can you believe that Jon? She said I would come to know what a burden such a child would be when I was older. Wiser."

An odd laugh escaped Sansa, it held no joy.

"When I knew she was gone I made sure to bring myself to retch the moon tea up! I was scared it wasn't enough but I feel as well as I did when we came home." 

"Are you sure sweetling? Our child is safe?" 

Sansa at last did raise her head to look at him and the smile that shone was one of pride. 

"Our child is strong, Jon. Whatever moon tea remained could not silence our young pup's yearning to be with us." She declared proudly as her lips met his own and they shared an embrace. 

They were his pack. 

A child sired by wolves that was more Stark than any their father had conceived. 

No Fishes or Lions could claim to weaken the blood of the Direwolves that ran in Jon and Sansa's child. 

"We have to leave Jon. We have to make for White Harbor before the Dawn comes and mother knows I'm still with child." She pleads with desperation thick in her voice.

Would their father really allow such a thing? 

He could not wrap his mind around the notion of Ned Stark forcing Sansa to kill their child but should their father know it was his bastard son that deflowered his daughter, he could not be sure the Mother would stop the Stranger from collecting another soul.

Drawing himself up fully he nodded his head. A look of relief washing over Sansa's face when he did so.

Had she doubted him? 

He wished now that he'd known of the child when Sansa had first proposed they leave their family behind. 

But this child was his family now, more than his father or other sibling could ever be. 

They'd committed a grave sin but he'd gladly spend the rest of his days making sure his sister and child knew only joy from his failure to heed to honor. 

What was honor next to love? 

What honor was there in a man who abandoned their child to eternal darkness without a fight?

Jon made for a trunk near the corner of his sparsely furnished room and pulled from it a spare set of clothes. 

"Put these on and gather whatever we can use for barter that won't slow us down." He instructed as he handed her older clothes that seemed more befitting small folk.

She eyed him questioningly. 

"We'll not get far if they know its you who travels with me. Take care to pull your hair back and hide it..." 

He stopped as he observed her move to his desk and grab a small blade from it. 

"Sansa, What are you doing?!" He asked in shock as she crudely cut her hair til it was half its original length. 

Sansa adored her hair and all else that made her a proper lady. 

To him she was the most beautiful woman in all the world, even as she was now, yet it pained him that she should give up a piece of herself for him.

"Hair will grow back, Jon. If Lady Stark kills our child because I could not part with something as silly as hair than I've no right to be a mother."

Jon was stunned. 

"You've every right, love. It's I who.."

"Later Jon! There will be time enough for all this later....for now we must escape or our child is as good as dead." Sansa hushed his pitiful self loathing and he was soon moving to make ready for their travel. 

She stripped bare before him and he could not hide the new appreciation he felt for her body. 

He wanted to see her grow round with his child. 

Terror and Joy gripped him in equal measure but he pushed on. 

Once they were gone from Winterfell and all who could harm them, he would make a family with Sansa. 

He'd do honest work and she'd raise a perfect son or daughter because she was already perfect herself. 

She pulled on the new clothes he'd thrust her way, shooting him an exasperated look that bid him to hurry and cease staring at her swollen breasts and growing middle. 

Some moments later a lone guard did stop them but paid no mind as Jon explained her away as shy girl he'd brought to warm his bed. 

He knew Sansa must hate that he did well to sound gloating like Theon had done when he'd snuck whores into the Castle but she'd mind capture a great deal more.

A great deal of time passed after they'd departed through the gate with the sun rising and settling in the sky above. 

Jon prayed to the old gods and new their luck would hold as they passed Castle Cerwyn but the group of strange men on horse back promised no such comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to people who are following and leaving feedback. Encourages me to keep writing. 
> 
> What did you all think? 
> 
> I was never going to kill the Jonsa baby but I hope you can all see (and some of you correctly predicted!), that Jon and Sansa couldn't continue their romance under their family's noses. Given the age and ignorance about such matters, Jon maybe could have been more shocked but he strikes me as the type to put his child and Sansa while letting it all sink in later. 
> 
> Next Chapter will be a positive development for Jonsa & baby but after that its going to be family reactions. Feel free to put in your opinion on how the Stark children and their parents will react to all this. Since Sansa left with Jon and discarded her dress on his bedroom floor, the cat is out of the bag. 
> 
> This is going to change how Robb views Jon in a completely 180, and be the foundation for some out of character moves compared to books/show.


	13. Reed I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The young runaways meet up with someone who can truly help them in their hour of need.

Howland Reed: I

"Good day Sir but your eyes aren't what they used to be. Now if you'll please let us pass." The boy asked as the woman who sat behind him on the horse wrapped an arm around him and another at her middle. 

It wasn't a woman. Not really. 

It was but a girl perhaps no more than ten and two name days. 

"Your Stark's bastard aren't you. Jon Snow. The girl with you is your sister by blood." Howland said with some confusion. 

Why where the two eldest Stark children well south of Winterfell on the Kings Road? 

The boys movements were slow, hesitant. As if he wished not to draw a sword yet the boy's hand clutched the hilt of his blade, drawing it out of its sheath and pointing it at him.

Besides Howland Reed, four other men drew swords on the Stark bastard. Ready to defend their liege lord. 

"We...We just want to pass....please Lord Reed." 

Silence. 

The boy tried again as his eyes sized up each man before him. Five to one. The boy knew himself beat but still had the courage to continue to hold his blade. 

"I have some gold....not much but tis something my lord."

The girl Howland Reed knew to be Sansa Stark, took her hand from around Jon Snow and made to dismount the horse. Cautiously. Her face wild with worry as she continued to favor her middle with a hand shielding her belly like a frightened animal heavy with young. 

Sansa Stark's eyes were wide with fear but when Howland looked at them he swore he heard a silent plea for reprieve. Reprieve from the men that now surrounded her and unborn child, with steel drawn. 

Howland cleared his throat. 

"I want not your gold, Jon. Tell me what your doing out here with your sister and mayhaps I'll pretend I never saw you. If Ned has sent you..."

The girl now spoke. 

"Please Lord Reed. You fought with my father in the rebellion. I know that he would want you to leave us to our journey....please....we can't go back to Winterfell." The girl spoke in a panicked mess of emotions. Beginning as a high born lady but ending as a desperate woman not unlike a common beggar. 

They don't want to be found. 

They've run away!

Howland Reed had never forgotten the way Ned's sister had saved him at the tourney, spent many times after words wishing he and Ned could have saved Lyanna Stark as she had done for him. 

"Sir what should we do?" A man asked to his right while the rest kept swords pointed at Jon Snow.

"If they will not reveal the truth of why they have run from Winterfell then we shall return them there." He spoke with finality. 

"No! They'll kill the babe!" Sansa shrieked as she stepped back toward Jon Snow until her back could go no further against Jon's horse. 

What did she mean? What could she.....

"It'll be alright Sansa. Lord Reed and his men may try to take you back but I won't let any harm come to you or the baby." Jon Snow declared as he dismounted now and made to put Sansa atop the horse. She would not have it and shrieked as she threw herself against the boy. 

Howland could hear the poor girl's sobs clear as a sparrow's song. 

He could also make out the words.

'Needs a father.'

A terrible sinking feeling overtook him now. 

He remembered Lyanna Stark. Her body pale as the snow, bedding bloodied so as to be mistaken for having been red sheets instead of white. 

The little babe wrapped in swaddling clothes that yawned as Ned rocked the child back and forth, tears falling from his friend's eyes as he recounted what he'd found. 

The child that had been born free of his parent's sins. The child born of a Prince. 

He remembered the first time 'Jon', had awoken and stared up at him with curiosity. 

Those same eyes now looked frantic and filled with sadness. 

His men made moves to dismount and engage in melee with the poor lad but Howland threw up a hand in protest.

"Wait."

All eyes were on him now. Jon and Sansa looked at him with baited breathes, the smallest sliver of hope might yet burn in Sansa Stark or Lord Reed's mind had begun to fail him.

Save that his mind knew too much. Knew that Sansa Stark must surely be with child and the father could be none other than the man who was putting himself in front of the blades of Lord Reeds Guards. 

"Jon Snow and Sansa Stark. I don't care to know everything all at once but I must ask that you be truthful with me here and now. If you are then you may have no reason to fear. I'll not take you back to Winterfell or tell your father of this."

The two young lovers looked at one another and seemed to come to an agreement. 

"We would appreciate that sir." 

"Please your grace....we can't stay long...our father thinks we've gone to White Harbor but their are sure to be men headed this way."

"I won't keep you long."

A silence.

"Is the child that grows in Sansa Stark's belly, your doing Jon Snow?" The men around him cursed or else held their blades tighter. 

The pair looked at one another before Jon stared at him and responded.

"Aye my lord. The child that grows inside Sansa is mine....I know its wrong but surely the babe deserves a chance?!"

"My mother wanted it dead! She forced me to drink moon tea but I thew it up....I....oh gods Lord Reed please don't send us back to our parents I beg of you!" Sansa sobbed as she collapsed upon the horse she sat only for Jon to turn to catch her as she nearly fell off. 

The poor girl was carried off the horse by her 'brother' and held tightly against his chest. The boy kept a sword pointed at them all but his mind was not on the battle at hand. 

My men could take Jon and Sansa. Ned would beg me keep it secret. 

Jon Snow was six and ten name days while the waif of a girl with Tully features was not more than ten and three, now that he could get a good look at her.

How had it happened? Could they care for the babe? Jon had just offered them all the two had been carrying in hopes of making passage or securing lodging on the road.

"Fear not lady Sansa, your child nor yourself will come to harm. Jon's mother would haunt me the rest of my days if I dishonored her memory by allowing her grandchild to come to harm. That goes for you as well Jon."

The boy looked like a fish that had jumped into a small boat. Mouth moving wordlessly as though trying to speak but finding no words to say what he wished.

Finally the boy did speak. 

"You knew my mother?!"

"Yes Jon Snow. I knew her and because she was the greatest woman to ever come to a poor boy's defense, it will be my honor to come to yours. But you must trust me Jon if you and Sansa are to escape those that would see your child dead."

The men around him looked at him as though he was of two minds and just as many heads. 

By all the rights and customs of the Seven Kingdoms, Howland Reed should turn them away and send ravens to Winterfell but he knew he could neither turn them over to Ned Stark nor allow them to persist with their foolishness. 

"That...That is most gracious of you Lord Reed....Jon and I are thankful. But I never realized Jon's mother was such a figure...I always thought..." Sansa spoke, utterly bewildered. 

"What poor girl? That she was some mere tavern wench or perhaps you heard rumor to it was the sister of Arthur Dayne?"

"I...I had not heard much my lord save that Ashara Dayne was mentioned once when father and mother thought me elsewhere." 

"Can you tell me more about my mother? Did she look like me....did she love me enough to birth me but not enough to raise me?" 

The boy wants answers but isn't ready for the cost of those answers. Howland thought sadly. 

Ned Stark was an honorable man but a damn fool when it came to raising his own nephew. Jone neither knew his true name nor parentage. 

May the seven curse Ned Stark for throwing the responsibility of the truth upon his shoulders while the Warden of the North was content to play the fool. 

"I'll tell you everything.....including the name your mother gave you on your name day but you must come with me back to Greywater Watch."

The boy sucked in his breath and moved to put Sansa behind him, sword ready for battle.

"I promised Sansa we'd build a future away from all this....Essos is the only refuge for those like us."

Like us? 

Does the boy truly think himself so cut off from the world around him?

Why wouldn't he though? The boy believes he has fathered a child with his sister! 

Ned you unbelievable fool. 

What must Sansa think? What of her family when they'd awoke to find that she and their brother had gone off in the dead of night. What would Rob Stark say when he learned his 'bastard brother' had committed the sin of incest and brought not only a bastard but an abomination into the world? 

"How would you get there boy? Your but Six and Ten at most with a child on the way and no great skills outside that of picking up a blade."

The boy wouldn't let it go.

"I'll get Sansa and I somewhere cheap. We've a gold piece and a few silver....if need be we can sell jewels she brought along. Mayhaps I'll work as a laborer or Sellsword. I could do it my lord." Jon snow declared haughtily. 

A moment of hesitation before the boy sighed and added.

"I must...for her and our child."

Howland Reed shook his head at the stupid fool and spoke again. Hopefully he would see sense.

"Say you do all that you claim. What happens when your injured or seven forbid, killed?"

Sansa's hands went to cover her mouth in shock as she gasped. Eyes watering at the thought of the man she must surely love, perishing a nameless sellsword in a battle no one would care remember.

Jon puffed out his chest.

"I think I'll be just fine my lord. Plenty a man see's himself given to the gray while fighting for coin. My father made sure I could swing as true as any knight." Jon declared with pride. 

Arrogant Pride. 

Reed thought of Rheagar. 

The boy was so much like his true blood father that it unnerved him a bit. 

A dragon had once more seized a wolf for a bride. 

Would another war break out? 

Reed doubted something so extreme would befall the realm but he knew word would travel. Eyeing his guards he was almost certain of it. 

" Your mother was a fighter as well Jon but not having the help of those that could best care for her is what took her from you in the end. Don't let your child suffer the same."

Sansa seemed as white as a sheet, staring at him wide eyed while Jon seemed torn. Torn between fighting or continuing to parlay. Continuing to learn about the mother Ned had never mentioned even the smallest of details, if Reed had to guess.

"What are you offering to my brother and I, Lord Reed?" Sansa spoke ahead of whatever Jon may have wished to say.

He'd have to tell them the truth as soon as they got back. This farce Ned had insisted upon had lead to disaster and could only continue to do so as long Jon Snow continued to exist.

"We will turn around and go through the backwoods and cross the Fork. Once there we shall make haste for my family's castle. There I'll tell you everything I know and ensure your all kept safe til your child arrives. Ned Stark need never know." 

Jon wasn't buying it.

"Why would you my father's oldest friend betray his trust and shelter us?"

"Because your mother would have wanted you safe. Would have wanted more for you Jon...so much more. I owe her more than I can ever hope to repay but this is as good a start as any."

Jon looked at Sansa who nodded her head. 

Jon still did not seem to want to go with him but Ned's daughter simply put his hand upon her belly. 

Sansa had not yet begun to show too plainly but who knew how long that fortune would last. 

It was a blessing it had been him and not some band of ruffians or thieves that had met the young couple on the Kings Road.

"Alright Lord Reed. Sansa and I shall go with you...but if you harm her or my child I'll run you through....four guards or four hundred guards be damned." Jon vowed

You would be so proud of your son's courage, Lyanna. 

If only we had reached you sooner.

Motioning for his men to take some of the belongings that had weighted down the Stark siblings. The group of Seven made their way off the Kings road toward the fields, forests and swamps that would lose their trail from any pursuer. 

It would take them nearly a week to find their way back. 

In those long dark nights he could hear the young couple wander off to make love. 

Sansa barely ate and what she did manage she would often retch back up. 

Jon seemed to barely sleep and sample every meal before he'd let Sansa try to keep it down. 

The more Reed saw the more he cursed Ned for not letting him take the boy as he'd offered to do Sixteen years ago. 

Now he'd have the chance to make good his promise to repay Lyanna for all she'd done for him when he could do nothing for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written a while back but still needed some editing. Its not as long as I'd have liked but Howland Reed is finally going to get the chance to pay Lyanna back for all she'd done for him. Ned and Robb chapters are coming next. 
> 
> With ravens flying and men on horse surely riding after the most obvious of routes for Jonsa to take, White Harbor isn't going to be safe enough for the young lovers to risk just yet. Also Jon and Sansa are finally going to learn the truth as opposed to being manipulated by the three eyed raven aka 'minority report in a wheel chair'. 
> 
> Greywater Watch will also mean Jojen and Meera joining team Jonsa. Family reaction chapters incoming this week and hopefully King Robert during the weekend.


	14. Ned II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned Stark arrives at Winterfell at last and is confronted with a terrible truth.

NED II: WINTERFELL 

Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North on behalf of King Robert Baratheon, rode alongside his son Robb Stark. The weather was warm but a light breeze blew away any discomfort. 

The patriarch of house Stark could be no prouder a man than he was this day, for his son had distinguished himself and stood like a true north-men against the raiders beyond the wall. 

Though they'd been but few, they'd been more than Stark and Umber had brought with them to scout ahead. The wildlings had made to surround them and take them apart from all sides, yet Robb had braved the gauntlet of savage warriors to break the encirclement. 

My son is truly no boy this day, was that his Aunt and Jon could have seen the parrying of steel. 

But thoughts of Lyanna did not sit well with him nor did he think himself a good man for reveling, however briefly, in the taking of life. 

The wildlings were savage and raiders to a fault but they were people with families same as he. To judge them too harshly was to lose one's soul to darkness. 

"Are you excited to return, father? I'm sure mother and Sansa will be pleased to see us once more." Robb asked him. 

Had they returned yet? He'd heard by way of raven while lodging at Karhold that his children were leaving White Harbor for home, their business concluded. Wyman Manderly had also sent a raven that confirmed as much but sang praises for his daughter, Sansa. 

His daughter had impressed the Lord of White Harbor and brought a boon to the North, though Eddard Stark knew not how she'd done such. Lord Manderly had been far too vague on the matter.

"Aye. It will be good to see home again. Robb?" 

"Yes, father?"

"I'm proud of you son, the way you handled yourself on this journey has put my mind at ease for the day you'll take my place."

Robb looked uneasy, his reddish hair waving slightly in the breeze. 

"Your too kind. I only did what anyone would have done. Besides, Theon was besides we the whole way through, he'd be glad to hear of your thanks as well."

The Iron born ward had indeed taken the sword hand from many a wildling these past days, usually along with their heads to boot. Whatever dangers came for his son, the son of Balon had been their right alongside his own child, defending the heir to Winterfell as though he was sworn to Ned's own house. 

It warmed him to think such a friendship could develop from the most stubborn of enemies, it wasn't right that children should hate as their parents did. The feuds of the past belonged dead and buried with the men who'd championed them. 

The misguided calls for his friend Robert's crown, which he'd helped the man win by right of conquest, to pass to Viserys Targaryen was just the latest example of such foolishness. 

Course one could also look to the past for inspiration, to see how men of honor and courage carried on their lives so that those living would know the right path to take. It was true of small folk as it was true of Kings and lords. 

Turning his head back he spotted the Iron born and waved the young man to ride up to them. 

Riding along on his left as Rob was on his right, Ned took stock of the ward he'd helped raise into a fine young man. 

Theon had his faults but loyalty to Ned's son and House was never in question, least of all after all they'd experienced fighting alongside GreatJon. 

Tough old bastard had challenged his Lord, Eddard Stark to a contest to see who could drink the other under the table at a celebratory feast. Ned was shamed to say he'd laughed alongside his fellow northerners and politely declined. The man could drink by the barrel it was said, with room left over another. 

"I'm proud of you Greyjoy, you've protected my son and stood alongside us when you didn't have need to."

Theon looked genuinely shocked by Ned's words. He was not one to waste much air for platitude but Theon would be the ruler of the Iron Island one day, it was good that he learned the right lessons from so savage an undertaking as ending anothers life. 

"Thank you Lord Stark. Your words are more than I deserve, Robb was doing just fine without me beside him. I only helped a bit, was nothing worthy of praise." Theon explained self deprecating all he'd done. 

Ned shook his head and smirked that his son and ward had become like brothers. It was a friendship he'd had with Robert Baratheon that time and age had seen fit to fray. 

Was Robert still the mighty warrior who triumphed at the Trident or was he past his best years with specks of gray in his hair?

The journey had taken longer than it should have but he'd not do well to turn down Rickard Karstark invitation to Karhold. Robb and Theon had dueled with Rickard's three sons, Harron and Eddard each landing blows while Torrhen struck nothing but air. 

They'd all laughed about the whole affair over much drink and cooked pork. The two young men that Ned wished not to grow up too fast, found joy in the music and hospitality of House Stark's most loyal banner-men. The Karstark's being Stark's themselves once. 

Three cups in, he'd had the occasion to witness his friend break out in a knowing grin before directing his lord look out upon a crowding of couple's dancing in the great hall. 

Ned had seen a tall skinny long faced woman with a pointy chin and brown hair done up in braid, dancing with his son. The two danced, with Robb's hands never straying where they shouldn't. Ned was proud to have raised the boy to respect the bounds of decency. The seven knew he and Robert had not always, perhaps never, been so virtuous. 

Finally Robb had dragged the poor thing to the great table and Ned knew the reason for Rickard's joy, for the young woman with grey eyes and small of bosom was none other than Alys Karstark. Rickard's only daughter and a girl he'd tried in a summer long past to garner a betrothal for to Ned's eldest son. 

Eventually though the ruckus had died and he'd watched Rickard's face fall along with that of his daughter when Robb had moved on to a blond maid with a large chest and small waist. Alys had not stayed in the hall, rebuffing Theon's request for a dance. 

It pained Ned to see the unease all his banners had for the Iron born despite knowing nothing of the lads character. Least House Umber could vouch that not all who hailed from the Iron Islands were reavers. 

After that Ned could not find it in himself to accept the offer of lodging made by the Leech Lord, named so because Roose Bolton applied Leech's to himself daily so as to remain vigorous of both body and mind. But that was not the whole of it. 

Truth was that if ever his dear wife had reason to doubt virtue or honor could be found in bastard, it was no more plainly evident in Ramsey Snow. The bastard child born to Roose Bolton, though none knew the details surrounding the child's conception and Ned truly cared not how he'd been brought into the world, only that he made the Warden of the North uneasy. 

The three of them kept at the road for a time, finally turning around a bend and riding uphill, cresting the peak to discover the greatest sight in all the seven kingdoms.

Winterfell. 

Home. 

His eye's strayed from the tall spires rising in the distance as he took notice of several men on horse galloping off in different directions some distance from the keep. 

Turning bit he noticed such men on foot with Stark colors , disappearing in and out of the nearby woods. 

He grabbed the reigns tighter and willed that his horse moved forward at a gallop toward the nearest man. 

Robb and Theon raced after him as they too soon came to stop in front of terrified guard.

"My Lord! We'd not heard you were due to return yet. Wish it was that I could welcome you proper but we've been out since morning."

Since the morning? 

"Why are you out here foraging in the woods and not back at your post? Does Lady Stark know your out here."

The young man smiled and nodded his head with such vigor, Ned was sure it would fall off if he shook nodded any faster.

"Aye, was lady Stark that bid us come out here and look for her daughter, my lord."

Arya. Where had his little girl run off to this time?

"Is my sister alright? What's happened?" Robb asked with worry before Ned could ask more of the guard.

"Relax Robb. I'm sure Arya is fine where ever she is, she's tough as steel that one one." Theon japed reassuringly. 

Ned frowned when the guard only looked puzzled, exchanging glances at the young men on horseback before looking back to Ned.

"I beg your pardon my lord but its young Sansa and the bastard that we has been sent to find."

"Watch your tongue, my brother has a name and you'll take care to use it when your in my presence or that of our father." Robb chastised with suddenly dark air about him.

The second friendship he was glad of was that between Robb and Jon. 

The two had grown up as brothers and Robb valued Jon as though he was true born, Arya's love for Jon came second though Sansa had shown her up in recent moons past. 

Sansa.

"Whats this about my eldest daughter? Be quick about, I've no time for riddles." he commanded as evenly as he could. 

A panic had come for him and a sinking feeling had seized him firmly. 

"Yes...Yes, of course my lord. Its just...you see it was Lady Stark who told us the truth of it. The bas-John snow, made to kidnap young Sansa and flee in the night. Others say twas them both running off together but only only simple folk would ever believe such a tale, my lord." The man hurried to add. 

If he'd looked to his right or left. If he'd bothered. The sight of his son's confused shock would only be equaled to the expression of seething anger worn by his ward. 

"Let me help them find her, Lord Stark. I'll fetch a fresh horse be after them before Jon knows whats come for him." 

He barely heard the Iron born's plea's. 

"You'll do no such thing, not til we know the truth of this." Ned said sternly before glancing back at the guard, several more having since begun to emerge weather on foot or horse, to greet their lord. Their search seemed to be fruitless. 

"Did my good wife say why Jon and Sansa had gone missing? Has something happened while I was away that would drive my children from their home?"

The guard looked to speak but exchanged a look with another of his sort who shook his head. Ned's frustration grew twice over. Where were his children? 

"Its best you hear of it from Lady Stark, my lord. She's bid us tell you to make for keep as soon as you return." 

Ned waited to see if the guard would divulge more information but the sight of levied small folk mixed amongst the guards made him spare no more time for men before him.

"Robb. Theon. You'll both make for the keep with me, my wife had best have answers." Without saying anything more, he took off in a mad gallop for the east gate.

**********************************************************************

The great hall was as quiet as the family crypt. 

"What did you say Cat?" Ned asked, the world falling away from under him. 

She turned to look at him with such loathing, it was all Ned could do not to look away. 

Arya was present alongside Robb but thank the Seven his other children would not hear their mothers slanderous words. 

It could not be true. 

He refused to believe it! 

"Jon forced himself on your daughter! Were it enough Ned that he'd done only that indecency upon my girl but that bastard wasn't content...."

Catelyn Stark struggled to find the words, her anger seemed all consuming. 

Maester Luwin took it upon himself to speak. 

"Lady Stark is right my word, were that it was not so. I examined your daughter myself, she was three to four moons along with child. Given how 'close', they'd been of late, it would seem to have been going on for some time I'm afraid." The Maester finished. 

"No! You...You're mistaken! Father, Jon wouldn't...he.." Robb began. 

The boys mother would not let her son defend his bastard brother though.

"Robb, I found her clothes in his room. Does your loyalty to Jon blind you so, that you cannot see the truth of this?" 

Robb simply kept shaking his his and looking between his father and mother. None offering him answers he sought. 

"Please Cat, must we do this here. Perhaps you've not seen enough to know for certain that it was Jon. Sansa could have run for fear of what we'd have her do with the babe." 

Catelyn shook her head and nodded for a man to come forward, a guard by the looks of him. Ned could not recall the youth's name, only that he had been with his son and daughter as they'd made way to White Harbor. 

His wife had tears running down her face with eyes a puffy red did not keep her from giving Ned a withering look that made him feel as though he'd been at the Wall itself. 

"Tell him what you heard, Jerrick." 

The young lad seemed at a loss for all the attention paid him but to his credit as a man sworn to house Stark, spoke his truth for all to hear without hesitation or stutter.

"Aye, Lady Stark. I was to guard Lady Sansa's door the first morning after we'd arrived at New Castle. The events of the day prior had many of us shaken so we accepted drink and comfort Lord Manderly offered without question. When it was that I saw the man who'd been told to guard your daughter's quarters deep in his third cup, seemed only right to confront the man."

"And what did the man say?" Lady Stark asked though knowing full well the answer. 

Ned would have rushed forward and demanded the man get on with it rather than play games, prolonging their ignorance of events helped no one.

"The man said that it was Jon Snow's command that he take the night off. After taking two of the raiders himself, we'd not think it odd for a brother to want to watch his sister himself."

Catelyn Stark grimaced at the mention of Jon being Sansa's brother but otherwise let the man continue with his tale. 

A noise to his right gave him cause to look and behold his son taking a nearby chair, head in his hands. Looking as though he wished to retch upon the table he'd found himself at. 

" Didn't think it proper that there be no guard so being as I had only one drink to myself, I made my way to the chambers assigned to your daughter. Made to knock but...."

He nearly fell as the man's words continued onward. A dizziness threatened to swallow him whole but he remained where he was. Should anyone see him lose himself here, it would hurt him when the time came to shield Jon from the worst of what was to come. 

A part of him didn't wish to be that shield. Indeed their was a part of Ned Stark that wanted to maim the stupid boy for what he'd done. 

"The sounds I heard from the room was of a man and woman....having relations with one another my lord. By the Seven I wish that I was wrong! Would that I'd been born a stronger man, else I'd have broken down the door and rescued her from the bastard." The guard look ashamed.

Robb at last made to speak again, rising from his seat with a mask of anger falling over him. His face was as red as his hair.

"Why didn't you stop him?! Maester Luwin says he's been at it for months and when you discovered Jon....Jon..."

Ned moved to his son's side and put a hand upon his shoulder, he could hear Robb breathing heavy, struggling to calm his emotion enough to speak but the words wouldn't come.

"For that I am deeply sorry my lord. Be it drink or my own feeble mind, thought it was Jon and another woman. I took my leave soon their after."

Cateyln spoke up again, heading off any argument no matter how crazed it could not be Jon that had been taking Sansa in those chambers the guard had visited that night. 

"What did you see when you looked upon my daughters window early that next day?"

The guard looked down now as he said the words.

"Twas early and the sun had not yet truly began to rise in the sky when I made to stretch my legs outside the castle walls. Thought I heard a noise, first was that I mistook it for a bird but it came again and sounded like no bird I'd ever heard. Fancied myself a look to see where the noise had come when I beheld Sansa Stark."

"What was my daughter wearing, Sir?" 

"Nothing my lady, shamed that I saw your daughter in such a state."

Ned could keep quiet no longer but the voice that came sounded not like his own, it was small and brittle.

"Did you see Jon with her, Jerrick?" 

"No my lord."

Ned breathed sigh of relief. Their was still chance that this was all a great misunderstanding.

Gods be good Jon, tell me you didn't forsake every shred of dignity and honor I've taught you. 

Catelyn's face looked no less sure of what she'd spoken of though. Arya who Ned wished dismissed from the hall hadn't spoken a word in defense of her brother, she looked as angry and sullen as her mother. 

"Not at first. I saw a face appear besides your daughters before he pulled her back inside. The sun had risen by then you see. None else saw but a crow that perched itself on the window outside your daughters chambers."

His mind didn't need to think, his feet carried him up to the guard and he was lifting the man by his shirt and staring down into fearful eyes. 

"Why didn't you stop it then! If you'd seen the truth of my son and daughters sin, why did you not put a stop to it?!"

The guard took too long to answer but he finally did speak. 

"The rest of the morning and all the days after no one including myself saw or heard anything between your children my lord. I asked a few of the men if they thought Jon Snow and your daughter too close but they looked at me as though I'd said I was a white. To my shame I came to believe my own eyes and ears had deceived me." 

Ned Stark said nothing as he let go of the man and stepped back. 

"I won't judge you for this but your failure is too great to ignore." Ned began before his wife interrupted.

"And what of your failure, Ned? You knew for years what that boy was. We all did but you'd not have it! How many times was it Ned that my own children looked at me though I was a spiteful woman made of stone for speaking truth to them, warning them not to trust Snow?"

"We didn't listen...I...mother I'm so sorry." Robb choked out still angry but that softened a great deal when his son looked upon his mother. 

His Cat was tough as iron and fierce as a Direwolf, northern but for her Tully hair that marked her a Fish. Her anger seemed the only thing to hold her upright and Robb went to her to console his mother as best he could. His wife had need of love and she'd want none that he could give her. Her children would be her strength but she was short one. 

It was his fault for not seeing through what his nephew had done. 

"Its alright son. Arya and you didn't know. Neither did I til I found your sisters clothes on the floor of Jon's room and heard this guard's words." Catelyn Stark soothed her boy by while shooting her husband a withering stare.

The crashing of a chair sounded and Ned watched as Arya ran from the hall, Septa Mordan running after the poor girl. 

Catelyn looked crestfallen her remaining daughter made to desert her but perhaps not. 

His little girl was closer to Jon than she'd ever been to her true sister, Sansa. She'd not take kindly to him leaving but was just as likely to be angry with her sister as she was with Jon. 

Ned waved a guard to his side and bid the man to watch over his daughter. The Septa could best mind the other children while his daughter grieved in her own way. Ned would have words with his daughter later. 

"Do we know where they've gone?" He asked, putting as much of the Warden of the North as he could. 

Rodrick, the master at arms for Winterfell and the man to train his children to handle the sword and bow, Jon included, stepped forward.

"Aye that we do my lord. We found some personal belongings missing from both your daughter and Jon Snow's rooms. We believe they mean to buy passage across the narrow sea and lose themselves in Essos. Jon has likely manipulated your daughter to believe such was the only course of action open to them. Were that I could ring the bastards neck for what he's done to his sister, my lord."

Robb pushed away from his mother now and spoke with voice like steel.

"You'll have to get in line Sir Rodrik. If anyone's going to give Jon a thrashing for what he's done, it should be me."

"I know your angry son. I understand truer than you can know how hot the anger burns inside your veins."

Lyanna. 

Rhaegar. 

He'd made a promise to sister, true enough but he'd not counted on her child to take after his father. Seemed that Jon was more Dragon than Wolf. 

What madness had driven Jon seek comfort int he flesh of the woman he knew to be his sister? That Sansa was his cousin mattered not because the boy knew no better. 

Jon had thought Sansa his sibling for true and still he'd taken her honor and fathered a babe in her womb. If Maester Luwin was right, Ned had no reason to think him mistaken, it had been going on for some time. 

"What's to be done with the abomination that grows in your daughter's womb my lord?" Maester Luwin asked just as Ned thought on the man's words.

Sansa was three to four moons pregnant with child, if she'd not shown too obviously yet, she was sure to soon enough. 

"I tried to give her moon tea. Oh Ned I offered her moon tea when I thought her to have laid with a small folk at worst and young lord to be at best. If I'd known the truth..."

"You did what?!"

"Ned, Maester Luwin examined Sansa the night before she ran off, it was his words that forced me to act. Sansa is still a child herself and can hardly hope to carry a babe through to birth. Now that we know what grows in my poor girl's womb I wish I'd ripped the child from her. My poor daughter..." Cateyln Stark now wept upon Robb's shoulder who looked just as shock as his father.

You gave her Moon Tea? Oh Cat by the gods old and new, why did you do such a thing?

" Cat, how could you?! Why did you not send word or else wait for my return. We could have handled this together, our children may not have run."

"Our children?! My child is being dragged off by her bastard half brother, her mind clouded with honeyed words that convinced her to sin against all that is holy and decent. Your bastard Ned. Don't you dare drag my children through the mud with your failure to keep your vows." 

"Jon is a good lad. He.." Ned began to speak in defense of his nephew, trying to convince himself more than his wife.

"Good lads don't fuck their sisters, Ned! Do you even hear yourself? Your daughter has been taken yet you still defend the one to do her harm!"

Cateyln Stark broke from Robb and made to jab a finger at him, Ned let her. He couldn't bring himself to disavow her the right. This was as much his fault as it was his nephew's.

"You bring our girl home safe. If she'll not be parted from the babe than we shall wait til the she's given birth to send the abomination away from here and our girl can have some chance at a normal life. And that boy! You put him down for what he's done, Ned. He's gone too far, even you must see this, surely."

Lyanna's words echoed in his mind as did the now hazy memories of her bleeding out in her birthing bed. 

Keep him safe, Ned. Promise me.

Promise me, big brother.

"When we find the boy, he'll take the black. Better for him to do some good to atone for his sins." 

Cateyln and even Robb looked at him as though he were mad. 

"Unbelievable. You still show him favor even after all he's done?! Does your family mean so little to you or was his mothers cunt truly so grand?" Cateyln accused him. 

Robb's eyes went wide to hear his mother use such language, some of the men gathered reacted much the same. 

The sound of the slap echoed through the great hall. 

Ned could only look at his hand in horror, he went to comfort his wife but she shied from his touch. He'd not meant to hit her but his anger at her words had overcome him.

That she could never know the truth of Jon if Lyanna's dying wish was to be kept. 

Robert would run his sword through Jon as surely as the lads half siblings had met a gruesom fate within the halls of the red keep. 

Robert would demand the same of the child that grew within his daughter. Should she birth a son, it would a threat to Robert's throne. 

His friend would not stand for that. 

Seven help him, he wished for a moment that his daughter would lose the babe so she'd not have to suffer as princess Elia had. 

Before he could do much else a man had drawn his sword and was between himself and his wife. 

In horror Ned realized it was his son who held a blade with his mother behind him, a look of fright upon her face. 

"Robb. Cat. I'm sorry....I"

The sight of Winterfell's guards around them putting their hands to the hilts of their swords brought him to his senses. 

"Stay your swords! Twas I in the wrong, not my son." Ned commanded.

"I'll not let you harm my mother, Lord Stark." Robb spoke dead serious, his brandished sword shaking slightly and Ned knew his son was afraid. 

Lord Stark. 

When had Robb stopped calling him father. 

When I struck his mother and made to put my nephew before my own wife and children. 

He wished he could speak the truth. Wished that he could split a thousand wildlings in two rather than be forced into this battle between his own blood. 

"Robb. Son, put your sword away I didn't mean to strike your mother. Cat Please, she is my daughter too. I wish to see her home as much as you."

Robb waited a moment but relented. 

No sooner had the danger passed then Catelyn rushed from the room, tears falling as her hands covered her face which was sure to bear a bruise. A shame he'd have to bear were he not already determined to ride after his nephew and daughter. 

Ned turned to Maester Luwin. 

"Send ravens at once that any northern lord that finds my daughter and bastard son are to detain them at once. Jon snow is to be put in irons and kept from his sister until I've come to take charge of my children."

"What of your daughter's condition?"

"What of it? Gods be good, we shall find them before the ravens have made it far. No need to smear my daughter's good name with horrid rumors, Maester."

"As you say,Lord Stark."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I'd intended for Catelyn to reference Ashara Dayne but felt like her simply calling out whoever happened to be Jon's mother would have a greater impact on Ned. Obviously the honorable Ned Stark isn't one for hitting women or his wife but the enormity of what's unfolded in a very short period of time is too much for even him to bear. Wasn't sure about Robb getting between his father and mother but Ned acting so out of character obviously made him fear for his mother who for all her faults is still his mom. 
> 
> Would like to hear any feedback on this chapter, as well as what your predictions are going forward. Robb and Arya chapters are coming soon.


	15. Rob II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rob Stark finds things he'd rather wish he hadn't while processing what's become of the man he called a brother.

ROBB II: WINTERFELL

Robb Stark felt nothing these past few days, nothing but a cold deep shame. 

For three Dawns had risen to give way to three sunsets, yet his family remained broken. The sister he'd thought safe and naive to the worst of man's desires, was taken from her family by one they'd all counted as one of their own. 

Jon Stark. 

In his wildest dreams he imagined his half-brother was legitimized before the crown, serving alongside his best friend, Theon GreyJoy, to put right the North once his fathers time in the world had come to an end. 

In his worst nightmares he could never conceive of the fate that had befallen his sister. The worst of his nightmares were of Ironborn sacking Winterfell, he standing powerless to stop them as they took his family. He imagined him self a poor king not befitting his fathers legacy. 

Sometimes his dreams were not dreams a man ought have, rather it was though he were a beast, from the smallest of rodent to the largest of horse. The gods could be mysterious and he believed they'd made these dreams to show him his place in the world. 

Or so he hoped.

But what gods could exist if they let someone like Jon Snow be? 

Robb loved Jon, he was his brother and friend no matter what Septa Mordan had said. She'd told him time enough that bastards were cruel by nature of their conception. It was their nature and they'd no more stop their ways than a fish could breath without water. Wickedness became them. 

Young girls became whores and deceivers while boys grew to be the sort you'd avoid in narrow alleys or be mindful of your coin around. 

But regardless of what was between a bastards legs, they'd always covet what they did not have. For they were not true born as Robb and his siblings were. 

Catelyn Stark, his dear mother, had tried to warn him of these truths many a time. He'd shut her out and played deaf and dumb to all she prophesied. 

Robb walked the halls in a daze before he'd come to Jon's own rooms. No servant had seen fit to enter the room, believing it tainted. 

Robb opened the door and stepped inside, walking but a few steps before stopping dead in his tracks. Before Robb was the bed Jon had been sleeping in a but four nights prior. 

Did he take her here? He thought as he studied the tangled sheets that pooled at the end of the bed, unmade and smelling of his brother no doubt. 

But they wouldn't just smell of Jon, would they? 

Robb willed himself to walk into the room further, each step like he was to go to kneel before the executioners axe. 

"Why did you do it Jon? Why did you....." he begins, a faint whisper only he can hear but barely. 

He'd not seen his sister out of small clothes since they were small children, yet the notice of extra pillows upon the feathered bed made Robb ill. 

They were not like Robb's, they were finer in their make than any pillows Jon had ever cared to own. Sansa adored the comfort of such things while he and Jon could care less. 

"Why....did you do it?" 

Robb imagines what Sansa might look like, a thin blanket of furs covering her from the neck down as Jon shared the bed, both naked as their name day. He imagined Jon whispering honeyed words and smirking as his half brother put his hands on their sister in ways no brother ever should. Robb imagined Sansa asking Jon to stop, that she pleaded with her brother to not sin before all the laws laid down by gods and nature. 

"Maybe you even let her be for a time, Jon. Maybe you tried to convince yourself you weren't lusting for your own blood but that didn't stop you in the end. Did it?"

No one answered. The mess of a feather bed remained as it was, silent testimony. 

The emptiness was giving way to anger once more. A part of him wishing it wasn't true but he'd have to be blind and weak in the head to heed that part of himself that still cared for his brother. 

Turning away from the bed where he knew his sister and brother had laid, scarcely that far away from the rest of them. It was not the same hall as the rest of the family but it was close enough that you'd not have to walk too far to reach it. Sansa had come to Jon willingly just as she'd gone with him from Winterfell in the dead of night. Robb wasn't as blind as his mother, Sansa had not been forced away from them with Jon holding a knife to her throat. 

It was a great deal worse than that. 

Robb approached Jon's worn desk, its woodwork faded and marred with blemishes. Once Robb may have cared that Jon got less than himself, now he found the conditions Job abides to be fitting. 

Not much was on the desk save some books, a few trinkets Jon cared not enough for to take with him. The title of the book that was atop a small stack, gave Robb pause. 

This can't be. Robb reasoned. 

He knew his half-brother felt himself at times an outsider but to latch onto the worst family in recent memory who's sins against his own flesh and blood was now legend. Jon's betrayal now seemed so much deeper and sinister. 

'Fire and Blood: A history of the Targaryen royal family by Maester Gareth Marillion.' 

The title was not the worse of it either, Robb with trembling hand, reached for the damned book and opened to where Jon had left a bit of parchment as a crude marker of progress. 

The printed words upon the page spoke of the love Aegon the first had for his sister-wife Rhaenys, how they'd coupled often in hopes of an heir. It spoke of the customs of the family dating back to old Valyria. 

Robb cared not for the dates or much of the other names that appeared on the pages, it was the small scribbling of a heart near book markers top end, inside were the initials 'J' and 'S'. 

Jon Snow

Sansa Stark. 

Would that anyone found the marker, their were ample girls Jon could dredge up to explain the first letter of his sister's name. Perhaps Jon would say a girl had made the mark on his behalf with his initials.

They would spill from his lips like sweet honey and Robb would wish beyond everything else that they would be true. 

But his brother was a liar. 

A bastard and a sister fucker to boot. 

I've got no brother, just a fiend who invaded my home when I was but a babe. Maybe he was good once but Jon had shown himself for who he truly was, crimes and deceit against his own family condemned him. Never mind the gods old and new. 

Robb's hands shook and he could not stop himself from shoving every book off Jon's desk to the floor. 

That wasn't good enough! 

Robb next hoisted one end of the desk and made to flip it over, a thundering crash came as the wood broke against the hard floor, a leg broken clean off. But as Robb stared he found it was not good enough.

This wasn't justice. 

Justice would be Jon's head put upon a block. 

Justice would be the sound of Jon begging for forgiveness and confessing how he'd come to be as he was. How he'd thought a girl barely three and ten name days who was his sister by blood, was fit for him to spear with his nasty prick.

It had been days. 

Let their be more days to come, it would matter not. Robb would find Jon and rescue Sansa from the clutches of their bastard half brother. 

“My Lord?” A small voice asked. 

Robb whipped around to see Jeyne Poole and a guard by her side standing in the doorway to Jon's chambers. Dannis Hutter, if memory served was a man who had served loyally since Robb was but a boy of Six. He was a good man. A long face and bushy stubble added to the man's light gray eyes that now seemed unsure. 

But Robb knew Hutter must surely be as angry as himself. It was the Stark's the man's family served and it had been the Starks that had been wronged. 

“I'm not a Lord Jeyne Poole....just a man trying to make sense of the world. Trying to make sense of a bastard I thought I knew.”

Jeyne Poole's eyes widened to hear him use such words for Jon but how could he not. He found he didn't care what the waif of a girl thought. 

That's wrong of me. 

Sansa was Jeyne's closest friend. The two girls had been inseparable and Jeyne had been heard to cry in the Sept asking the gods to deliver Robb's sister safe and sound. It was wrong of him to take all the anger and hurt he felt for Jon on a mere girl. 

“We heard the crash out in hall and thought something wrong, I couldn't stop the young lady from running on ahead. I'm sorry.” Dannis apologized but Robb waved him off. 

“Its alright. I'd have done the same.” 

Jeyne Poole chose now to speak. 

“What has upset you so?” She asked as she played with the hem of her dress. Eyes looking at him a moment before a slight blush painted her face when he caught her gaze with his own. 

Robb smiled to calm the young girl's nerves. 

It would not do for Jon's actions to turn him into a creature that couldn't control his heart nor his mind. 

He would not become like Jon. 

Robb gingerly walked to where the book he wished to put in the guards hands had fallen, picking it up with care as though it were poison. In a way he supposed it was. 

The way of the dragons was a blight upon the lands of westeros. The gods knew what tyranny King Robert had saved them all from. 

He walked back to Jeyne Poole and the guard, shoving the offending tomb of knowledge into Hutter's chest. The guard took hold of the book and looked at Robb with bewilderment.

“Take this to my mother. Tell her that Jon had that book stashed away in his rooms. When she dismisses you, make for Rodrick and tell him that your to have men help you clear this room.”

He reached out an offered hand to Jeyne Poole who looked taken aback but moved to take it. 

Her fingers were small when put against his own but he didn't mind. 

“Would the young lady wish to accompany me to the Godswood?”

Jeyne Poole was modest to a fault as she was plain and small of chest. 

She was pure. Far purer than he and far purer than the room they now found themselves in.

“I...I'd be delight, Robb Stark.” She said with a smile that reached her eyes. 

He found himself smiling back at her and was happy for something to lift his spirits.

Arya had disappeared and Theon had gone to Winter Town to fuck his sun kissed whore, Ros. 

Robb could not lay with the woman any longer. It reminded him too much of What Jon had done to Sansa. 

“Shall we go then, Lord Robb?” Jeyne asked. 

Robb did not bother to correct her. 

“Let's.” He said before allowing her to lead him out the doorway, away from the pit of filth that passed itself off as a room.

He turned back to the guard who made to close the door after him. 

“Where are we to put it all your liege?” Hutter asked, book now tucked under his shoulder.

“In the yards for all I care, just make sure you burn the whole lot of it.”

The guard seemed shocked but nodded along in consent. 

He watched the guard go before taking off at a brisk pace for the Godswood, no longer allowing Jeyne to lead him. 

They walked in silence for a time before Jeyne made to speak. 

“Its dreadful what's happened to her, I pray every day to the gods old and new your sister returns to us.” 

Robb's grip tightened on the girl's hand but she seemed to pay it no mind. 

They continued to walk, coming to a set of stairs and making their way down so as to cut through this hall and that. 

“I keep wishing I'd done something more.”

Robb was curious.

“What did you try? Did....did my sister tell you of Jon's inclinations toward her?” 

The young girl simply shook her head but her next words came with deeply felt grief. 

“No my lord. Never...but all the same I should have insisted more strongly that she not spend so much time with the bastard. But she...”

“What did my sister do, Jeyne. Please, you can tell me. Its important that I know.”

Tears now streamed from Jeyne's eyes and it was at the moment they found themselves in front of the Godswood. 

“She slapped me, Robb. Lord Robb...Stark...I”

“Just Robb is fine here, Jeyne.” He tried to sooth but the young woman shook with bubbling emotions she could no longer hold back. 

Without thinking, Robb threw his arms around her and held her to him. Rocking her a bit as to sooth away her tears. 

It was not proper, that much he knew but he felt himself fraying with each day that passed. 

“I tried to tell her more than once that Jon looked at her oddly but I'd never imagined he'd stoop so long as to....to defile her.” Jeyne choked out.

“None of us did, Jeyne. Your no more guilty than my father or myself.” He admitted in a defeated voice.

Jeyne went still. 

“Please find her....please bring Sansa back. I miss her terribly.” 

Sansa had friends and a life at Winterfell, it would be all the better for her to return to it. It truly touched Robb that her sister could have such friends even if they came from the children of those sworn to serve their house.

“I'm sure she misses you as well Jeyne.”

He cupped the young woman's chin and bid her to look up at him, hopeful that his kind words and smile would warm her heart and push away the tears that lingered in her eyes.

“Your a strong friend, a true friend. She is lucky to have you. Winterfell is lucky to have you.”

She beamed up at him with something he thought must be akin to awe. 

He did not like the attention but did not move to shun her from showing it. 

“I'm lucky to have you.” He said the words without any thought to how they'd sound, as the two stood alone before the old gods wrapped around one another. 

A pair of wet lips met his own and Robb could neither speak nor move as Jeyne stood on her toes to reach him, her hands suddenly cupping his face. Her brown eye's stared into his own, holding him as if in a trance. Robb felt her small chest press against his own as she made to get through the cloth that kept their flesh apart. 

Robb put his hands nowhere near the small peaks the Jeyne was offering, nor did he cup her backside. 

He stood like stone. Aware of everything around him but paralyzed with shock.

When he felt Jeyne small tongue beg for entrance and force itself inside him, did he at last wake from the spell. 

His hands were on her shoulders and he made to push her off him. 

She fell back with a cry and landed on her arse, soiling her dress with dirt. 

Had he hurt her? 

He'd not meant to push that hard but the wrongness of what she'd done had been too much for him.

“Jeyne are you alright?” He asked as he made to reach for her but she'd not have it. 

Jeyne with her face in her hands and her hair a tangled brown mess, scampered up like an animal set on fleeing. 

With speed Robb did not think proper for a lady like her, Jeyne ran at a startling pace back toward the castle. 

Disappearing in a blur. 

Robb put his fingers to his lips and felt shame. 

He turned to pray before the old gods and wondered if he'd not make for Winter town in the late evening. 

Justice would surely come on the morrow. 

The justice that would see Jon Snow's head parted from his body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was held up for a while thinking of how Robb would react and wrote a chapter where he basically trashed Jon's room and told off his father. Wasn't really keen on writing much more Catelyn Stark at the time. 
> 
> Also showing how Robb reacted to Jeyne's fondness for him contrasts with how Jon responded to Sansa.


	16. Arya I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We briefly hear about Arya's thoughts on the disappearance of her brother and sister.

ARYA I: WINTERFELL

Her father rarely spoke to her mother, they'd not laid in the same bed for days now. Arya Stark, was the last daughter of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Stark, to still live behind Winterfell's impregnable walls. At long last she was free of her daughter's shadow. 

Its what she'd wanted for years but she'd been ignorant the cost such a wish could have, nor had she cared to think of how it may come to pass. 

Stupid Bitch! Arya thought as she threw a large rock at the abandoned first keep, its walls slowly crumbling with age, not a soul would care if it fell. She thought as the sound of the rock echoed in the yard as it hit true. 

She wished she had been born a boy, such was her anger now. Boys carried swords and bows, they'd be forgiven for thrashing a practice dummy in the yard. 

She had no cock and thus could only ever to sew and curtsy, no outlet for her budding rage or crushing sadness. 

Why did you leave me? Why?! What did she have that Arya didn't? 

Course she knew it wrong. 

Jon was no boy but when he'd had want of a woman it wasn't a whore that warmed his bed but their own sister, Sansa. 

The grown ups, those that would speak of it, had all said it had been Jon who'd charmed Sansa into vile sin but Arya knew better.

Jon wasn't like that! He couldn't be. Jon was more honorable and kind a Stark than her eldest brother Robb! That he'd be so vile was not in his character. 

It had been her loathsome sister that had brought ruin to her brother. Sansa with her long legs and towering height that she loved to hold over Arya every chance she got. When they'd been small it had been easy to get along with her sister, she'd only had love in her heart for her then, a towering giant with sun kissed hair that watched over her. 

That died away when Sansa had grown older. Suddenly she was the 'lady', with dreams of knights and banquets where her elder sister spoke of dresses made from fine silks. 

Arya would listen on, hearing stories of knights and swords but wishing she was one of them. 

It made it hard to stay still when Septa Mordan gave her lessons. What good was embroidery when swords and bows sat right downstairs unattended? 

Stitching was boring.

Lessons about the gods and how to hold a fork were even worse.

You stuck your food with the pointy end of your fork or else ate with your hands like the first men had done. Wildlings had no use for forks and knives, they seemed no worse for it. 

Arya picked up another rock and hurled it with greater force. A loud cracking sound was heard and she only had time enough for her eyes to go wide in surprise before a dull pain was felt above her eyes. 

Tears grew in her eyes but she'd not cry.

Looking around though she realized how foolish it was to care. 

So she walked up to old keep's still very much intact walls and leaned her back against it, slouching down to sit, her head in her hands as the tears came. 

Why did her brother have to leave? Why hadn't he taken her with him? 

For the same reason he'd not said goodbye to her.

Sansa!

The stupid proper lady had spread her legs and Jon had been mesmerized like the foolish boy he was. Sansa knew she'd get pregnant or else was too dumb to have thought Jon could put a babe in her.

She could remember what it had sounded like when her father had first been told of Jon and Sansa's child together, it had made her father look half dead, face the pale color of snow. 

She'd heard tell that such unions between siblings could only bring forth an ugly child. The Targaryens sometimes birthed children with madness but more often they'd given the world dead babies with dragon wings and tail. Incest had run in that family and they'd still birthed monsters!

Would Jon and Sansa's baby have ears like wolf and be covered in patches of fur? Maester Luwin had looked ill when she'd asked the question, assuring her after a time that it was more likely extra limbs would sprout or else be misshapen.

If the gods were kind, they'd make it so that the child's heart would be outside the body, it would die soon after birth if it was not stillborn. Those had been the kind Maester Luwin's sorrowful words.

I hope the monster takes Sansa with it. Arya thought coldly. 

Then Jon would come to his senses and be done with whatever madness their sister had put on him. 

She imagined Jon would come back then. He'd be sorry and Arya would tell him how he'd hurt her, the pain he'd made her and their family endure. Her father would listen as he always did when any of them had need of him. Her father was the wisest man in all the seven and had more good in his small finger than a thousand knights put together. 

Arya smiled through the tears, imagining the fantasy. 

Her big brother would be home. They'd laugh and play as they'd always done since she could remember. 

Jon had never called her horse face. 

When she'd told him of her dreams of swinging swords and loosing arrows, he'd ruffled her hair and told her he could see no other future for her. Anything else wouldn't sit well with her but he'd also said she'd have to be sneaky about it. 

He'd lowered his face to hers and whispered in her ear like it was some great secret. Telling her that when she was older, he would train her properly. Perhaps he even meant to give her a sword!

She'd smiled and hugged her brother, so overcome with joy at his promise to her. 

Jon truly was the best of them. 

When the dreadful day came for the Stranger to take their father from the world, she imagined her brothers running Winterfell together with her alongside to help them. 

Wiping her tears on her sleeve, she made to stand up and make for her room. 

She'd sleep a bit before the family broke fast for the evening meal. It would do her good to dream of her brother helping to teach her how to swing a sword. 

Please come back Jon. 

The North needs you.

Arya looked to the sky before she entered the castle and thought the words that were in her heart.

She needed Jon more than any of them.

She needed her big brother who had always stood in her corner as she had for him. 

She'd stand beside him when he returned to them. Until such time she'd not let her father or brother give up on Jon. 

One wolf may die but the pack would survive and thrive without Sansa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the shortest chapters I've written but if anyone has advice on writing Arya I would appreciate it.


	17. Jon V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The big reveal.

JON V: GREYWATER WATCH

Jon walked through the pathway, struggling to account for every twist and turn that seemed perpetually obscured with a dense layer of fog. His sister had the worst of it as Sansa had retched more times than Jon had fingers to count, the smell of bogs and back trails not agreeing with her stomach as she hung from the horse more than made to ride it proper.

"Is it much further, Lord Reed?" He asked the man who'd kept a good few paces ahead of him and his sister, horse moving leisurely through the thick mists and high grass. Above them the sun was less a beacon the deeper they went into the forested home of the Crannogmen. Jon had yet to see another save for Howland and the men he'd brought with him. 

Marion Pelmer, a long faced boy of twenty and one name days, his face like that of a newborn babes so you'd be forgiven for thinking him much younger. Jon thought he looked a good name day or more younger than himself but his eyes were mistaken. The young man was like mummer, neither speaking or moving much save when needed. 

Geralt Flambers meanwhile was not much better but certainly no older than Jon. He wore dark leathers and light mail that contrasted greatly with his mess of hair that was the color of chafed wheat. The young man had made sure to prepare food in such a way so that it would not trouble Sansa too much to partake of it, his efforts mostly had born fruit. 

But it had been many days. 

Many cold, drab, miserable days that had taken them farther away from White Harbor than Jon liked to think about, avoiding the smattering of keeps and villages along the way through the Barrowlands before making it through the inhospitable Neck. Jon knew that as the water and grass rose to touch his knees, that they were nearer to Greywater Watch.   
More flies had accosted him in the last two days than he'd seen in all his life. Surely more would come and Jon wasn't looking forward to the buzzing pests, were it not for his sister and their child he'd have no wish to tolerate the Neck's many splendors. 

When would they finally arrive? When could he and his sister finally have rest from a life now spent on the run. 

Neither Marion Pelmer nor Geralt Flambers paid his question any mind. They walked forward as though he'd not spoken a word. 

"Not far now, Jon. You and..." Howland began before shooting a look back at Sansa's prone body sleeping atop the same horse they'd sprung from the stables of Winterfell. It had looked full and vigorous. Now Jon could see its bones visible beneath a thin layer of flesh, it's steps sluggish and its eyes dull. 

"...Yours..." Lord Reed finally settled on, daring not to speak the name of Sansa Stark should the wrong ears be lurking. 

Jon thought Reed a man given to jumping at shadows. 

They'd not seen another person for days now. 

Who would be out here looking for himself and his sister? The Freys? 

"will find refuge before the sun dips from the sky this day. Look there." Howland Reed Said as he jestured out ahead, some ways to the left and amidst a gathering of thick heavy trees. 

Jon beheld a man and woman with spears drawn, a great beast of a creature covered from head to tail in scale was beneath them ensnared in a net as they drove their pointed weapons into its back. 

Jon must look like a pale frightened boy, Howland the cheeky fellow, had the gal to smirk at Jon's unease. 

" Those two are husband and Wife, they make to hunt every few days and serve what's caught as tribute to my House when it fancies them. You'll find no better people than us crannogmen, Jon. Be mindful that I risk their lives as well as my own in seeing to you and your young family."

Jon nodded and fell back a ways to be closer to Sansa as his grip tightened on the reigns for his horse. 

"I am thankful my lord but I mean no disrespect, why did you choose to help me and mine? Can't imagine my lord father would be pleased for what you've done." Jon spoke as his hands traded the reigns between them and he reached grip his sisters pale small hand in his own. Even in her deepest slumber, she returned his affection, though Jon hoped she was deep in a pleasant dream that was away from all the harm he'd brought her.

"It's as I've told you before, Jon. Your mother would wish me to help you and this small act by myself doesn't repay the debt I owe her by even half. More I cannot say until we are within the safety of my home." Lord Reed declared once more like a parrot he'd had chance to see at White Harbor, repeating the same words no matter how Jon asked his questions. 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw several sets of eyes in a great body of water not too far off to his right, creatures as vicious and alive as their kin caught by the crannogmen had been dead. Jon tried to pay them no mind but he felt their gaze on them. The worst of it was the fog seemed to hide them with the creatures disappearing when they shut their eyes, only to be somewhere else in the next moment when they opened them once more. 

If they go for the horse I'll have to pull Sansa from their grasp. Jon thought with fear, would that the creatures stopped with a horse and did not also feel inclined to feast on his family. 

Sansa was his sister by way of their father but now he'd become a father himself to a child that grew inside her belly, which had seen to blossom these many days past, growing larger after each night it seemed.

How did I not see it? Was my son or daughter hiding from Lady Stark til we could get free of Winterfell? 

The thought of Catelyn Stark nearly killing his child, woke in Jon a rage he struggled to sate in the darkness of the late night. Howland would tell him that it did no good to dwell on what might have happened, only what would come to happen now. Sansa had retched up the poison and whatever had remained had not been enough to silence the proof of Jon and Sansa's coupling. 

His sister had called it 'love-making', but Jon thought it sounded too personal, too raw and true to what a man and woman shared between themselves and none other. 

She'd laid with him the first night they'd been under Lord Howland Reed's care but not a night after. They were both too drained and taken aback by the chore it was to make it through the Barrowlands. 

Jon had no doubt that if Howland's word kept true that he would take his dearest sister to bed once more, a proper feathered bed that was less than Sansa deserved but a great deal better than the unforgiving grass covered dirt they'd been sleeping on. 

It was good to hold her and rest an arm over the swell of her middle, knowing that another life was growing inside Sansa and it was of him. 

Bastard. 

The word did not sting as it had for as long as he could remember but he'd do all he could to put right so that his child would not bear the shame. 

Perhaps once born, a raven could be sent to his father and they'd be granted safe passage back. 

It tore at Jon to keep Sansa from her true born family but she'd told him their child was all that mattered now. 

They came to a tall wall of foliage and Lord Reed bid them all stop. 

"This is as far as we dare go."

"What do you mean? Theirs nothing here." Jon said, his senses on edge in but a moment. 

Did Lord Reed have second thought about him? Would he make to shove a sword through him and take Sansa and her child into Greywater on behalf of their vows to his father?

His eyes looked to the crannogmen but they seemed to care not a great deal more than they'd been inclined to do any of the days past. 

Lord Reed walked to him but did not bother to grasp the hilt of his sword. A weapon few crannogmen could claim mastery greater than that which they held with their spears and nets. But Jon had heard these as stories back at Winterfell, told by men half in their cups or boasting to impress young maids they fancied.

Jon and Sansa had come to the land of the crannogmen and he realized he knew very little for true about these people. 

"I'm sorry we couldn't take a boat from Barrowtown through to Blazewater Bay as you'd have liked but the risk was too great, Jon. You and her" Reed began gesturing to a now roused Sansa who was looking about with eyes still clouded by sleep. 

"Must not be caught. With what you've told me of the girl's mother, I'd wager ravens have flown to every keep and house in the North. Even with her hair cut short, you two would attract interest. I'll not give the Tully woman another shot at your babes life, nor let Eddard Stark continue with is foolishness."

Jon was once more confused by the Lord's choice of words and forgot any unease he'd felt at their stopping.

Lord Reed turned to address his sister who had come to sit upright on their horse, her eye's darting around now in confusion and apprehension just as Jon's had.

Lord Reed simply smiled and extended a hand. 

"I welcome you to my home, young lady. I'm sorry we could not arrive sooner but before we complete our journey we must deal with a smaller matter that remains."

What was the Lord speaking of?

"What do you mean, Lord Reed. Surely my brother and I have thrown them off our scent with your help?" Sansa asked bewildered as she slowly took Lord Reed's hand.   
Jon moved to her other side and made to assist Lord Reed in helping Sansa down from the horse.

Jon nor Sansa received answer but Lord Reed did instruct them to leave the horse. 

"But why my Lord?" Jon asked as Sansa nodded alongside him, her body held tight against his own.

"That creature is of Winterfell and would not do well at Greywater, I must insist you part with it before we enter my home.

Still not seeing any castle or troupe of knights to greet them, Jon doubted Lord Reed's decision. 

He passed the reigns to Marion Pelmer, the crannogman simply nodding and giving no other acknowledgment to Jon. Though the man did seem to have a glint of some sadness in his eyes that Jon thought odd. 

Shrugging, Jon and Sansa made to go forward a few paces and were nearly disappeared into the thick fog ahead when they heard the cry of their faithful horse followed by dreary silence. 

Jon made to go back but the crannogman behind him did not let him, imposing himself between Jon and the path that would lead him back to his family's horse.

"Lord Reed whats happening?! What did that man do to Winrey?" Sansa asked, fear laced in her voice as tears gathered in her eyes. 

"My sister is right, what have you done to our family's horse?"

"What had to be done, Jon. That horse was of Winterfell, it would have made its way home somehow if it did not have the decency to die along the way. Horses are not lame of mind as some would have you think, they remember much and can reveal a great many secrets. For you and your sister I could not take the risk. Even the debt I owe your mother would not keep me from driving a spear through that beast if its life meant to risk my own children as well as yours." Lord Reed explained with a voice that was deadly serious. 

If it meant protecting Sansa and their child, Jon did not know what limit he would put on himself, perhaps none. Was that what it was to be a father? Jon could not picture his father having such thoughts, surely not one so honorable as Eddard Stark would forsake all that was fair and decent in the world. To be honorable was to put others before yourself. Ned Stark would not throw lives away carelessly for any slight against his family, for he cared for the small folk as well as his own children. 

Why did lady Stark think him so coveting for his brothers rightful seat at Winterfell? He'd not been raised or taught how to rule and he had little want to rule over others. None in fact. 

"Jon, poor Winrey didn't deserve that, he was good." Sansa sobbed as she buried her head in his chest. Her only true companion since their escape was now to become food for the beasts that called these swamps home. 

Jon imagined the greaty many pairs of eyes were in the fog not too far away, they'd stay in the fog no longer. The image of scaled creatures ripping and tearing into Winrey became clear as day in his minds eye.

Jon moved his right hand in circles on Sansa's back to sooth her as Reed stood a respectful distance and let his sister grieve the loss of a life sworn to her house.   
Jon hoped it would be the only life lost for the sake of his actions. That hope was tempered by the reality of the world.

I would part a thousand Winreys of their heads if it meant the safety of my sister and child. Jon thought soberly. 

It was a cynical dark realization that did not belong in the mind of a Stark.

But Jon was no Stark. He was a Snow. 

He felt no regret for the fact as Sansa nuzzled into his touch and held tightly to his person. 

Finally they could no longer stay where they were as Marion Pelmar appeared from the fog, the sound of beasts feasting sounding far closer than Jon wished it.

"Its not far now." Howland assured them as they cut through thick brush and came upon a small boat that was more a crude raft than anything else. 

They gathered atop the rickety construction with great caution that the crannogmen failed to share. They looked as sure of themselves as Iron born did on the decks of their war galleys. 

Sansa rested against them, her feet pulled up as close as she could manage comfortably, her fear of the swamps creatures evident for all to see plainly. 

"When we get to your keep, Lord Reed, would it be too much to ask if a tub may be available? Jon and I have not bathed since the night we escaped our home." 

"If it is not too much trouble, I mean." Sansa hastened to add. 

Howland Reed simply nodded and spoke with soothing words.

"I'll be sure to let Jyana know of your want of a bath, I'm sure she'd not mind sharing what we have with you. Meera may even be glad of your coming to our home. She's a lady much like yourself, kind yet fierce as our sigil." 

Sansa's cheeks grew red with embarrassment and Jon was happy to see his love show her smile to the world once more. It was a bittersweet reminder of how much Sansa had sacrificed for him and their child. A child he had put in her. A child she had defended the only way she knew how. 

"Thank you Lord Reed. I've not seen Meera since she was but a babe, I'm sure she's grown as lovely as your wife and as honorable as you, Ser." Sansa spoke sincerely, no doubt recalling distant memories of a time when Lord Reed had brought his family to visit Winterfell. 

Jon had only the vaguest of memories and even then they were muddied, unclear. It did no good for a bastard son to entertain his fathers guests. Lady Stark had seen to that and Jon hadn't begrudged her for it then. 

Lady Stark could take that and more from him but she would not take his child! That much Jon vowed before the old gods and new. 

"You'll not be quick to thank me when my lady wife see's the state of you and refuses to leave your side til you are as you were back in your home, she'll not like the circumstance of your visit but will be glad of your company all the same. Another woman at Greywater watch will do the place good." 

Jon felt Sansa take his hands in hers as she addressed a question of Lord Reed.

"What of Jon, my lord? Will he be welcomed at your home?" Sansa asked with hope that Jon himself found he shared. 

The Lord knew about his mother! How many times had he wished and begged for his father to tell him of her. How many name days had he spent wishing she would appear at the East Gate and take him in her arms, whispering apologies as she held him close. 

It was the stuff of dreams, he knew better now. His name days had passed without anyone coming for him and like a good bastard he'd seen fit to accept it, burying deep down that part of himself that longed for a mothers love.

Now that he was to have answers, he knew not weather to be giddy with joy or trepidation. Had his mother not been a woman of virtue, but an employ of a pleasure house? If that were so did that mean he had sibling besides those by his father? 

He glanced at Sansa, his thoughts of half siblings named Sand, fleeing from his mind. It felt near shameful to have entertained such fantasies. He had brothers and sisters who cared for him. 

He had Sansa. 

She would bear him a child soon enough, six moons if Maester Luwin had the right of it. What did it matter for him to find siblings in far off lands when he had a family of his own to care for?

He squeezed Sansa's fingers in his own, his thumb caressing her small delicate mid-finger as though it was made of glass.   
She blushed at his affections and drew herself closer to him, letting him hold her tighter still, their bond unbroken and still growing just as the child they shared did the same.

Sansa would be a wonderful mother, Jon was sure of it. 

The anxiousness for information pertaining to his own mother did not leave him completely but it did ebb. 

Lord Reed would give him the information he'd waited years to hear, answers he'd given up on ever knowing from his father. 

He could wait a few moments more. 

******* 

Finally the crude boat that was more a cumbersome collection of logs held together with luck and rope, approached their destination. 

The towers were the first to appear before them, rising high into the sky, some leaning at an angle like old hags, bent with age and wear. Jon wondered how it was they did not topple over. 

The castle itself was worn but seemed to belong amongst the swamps and thick trees that surrounded it, Jon saw too that it was not a castle as he would have thought it. For a castle did not float upon the water, least any he'd ever heard of. The rumors had been there for all to hear if they wished to listen but Jon had passed them off as drunken embellishment.

But Greywater Watch was as unnatural as they whispered in taverns, it was a collection of buildings that floated upon a Cranog, moving through fog with an elegance that shouldn't be possible for its size. Jon wondered if you could fit Lord Reed's home inside White Harbor's large bay, he thought that it might fit with room leftover but it would not leave much room. 

"Do you like my home, Jon?" Lord Reed asked. 

"Aye, your grace it is something to behold. " Jon answered still in awe of the audacity of it all. 

Who else could simply stick ores in the water and shove off into the fog with their home disappearing with them? 

Should Reed truly hold true to his word, his father would have a nigh impossible task tracking them down. Sansa and the child would be safely hidden. 

Unless someone took offense at his being here. 

"That it is, isn't it. We spend so much time in our own lands, we sometimes forget what luck has seen fit to grant us. You and your wife shall be safe here."

"Wife?!" Sansa asked in surprise, her voice sounding like a squeak from a field mouse. 

Jon simply repeated his sisters words, a look of bafflement overcoming him.

"Indeed. Though the servants of Greywater Watch are sworn to me and mine, they could let slip talk of your being under my care. Should Lord Stark hear of such rumors, the swamps would fill with Stark banner-men. The Freys would certainly be glad to lend aid to Ned Stark for such an endeavor."

Sansa stared up at Lord Reed and made to defend her father.

"My father is a good man, Lord Reed. You've sworn yourself to him and he knows your a man of honor. He'd not do such a thing simply to get at Jon and I. He wouldn't." She declared again.

Lord Reed did not look doubtful of Sansa's words.

He looked certain that she was soft in the head for having defended her father. 

If Ned Stark came for Sansa, he would come for Jon Snow as well. 

Lord Reed appeared to know of events and actions Ned Stark had taken that both Jon and Sansa were ignorant of. 

"All the same. When we are at the castle, you shall be Alayne Stone, wife of Jon Stone. Who you wed in a small ceremony under weirwood tree. Decide for yourselves the details of the lie but it will be the tale you tell should anyone pry. I must have your word on this, the both of you."

Jon did not wish to lie but he saw no choice in the matter. He'd been prepared to put on a mummery to get through to a boat at White Harbor. Sansa may well have to dye her hair before long, even cut short it drew attention with its shine. 

"Aye, my lord you have my word that I shall be a faithful husband and father to Alayne and our child while we are in your care." Jon declared finally. 

Lord Reed nodded before looking to Sansa.

"My mother told me stories of the Vale and the people who live their, I shall try to remember what I can...and I'm glad to be married to Jon even it is a mummery."

Jon disliked the way Sansa's voice grew quiet toward the end of her acceptance of the bargain. 

He'd dreamed of Sansa being his wife for a time now, ever since the child was known to him he'd thought of staying with Sansa as man and wife. As a family for true.

"We've no Maester nor a Sept but we have much to talk of. When the truth your father kept hidden is known, mayhaps your marriage need not be a mummery, it certainly is true in spirit."

Jon's cheeks grew red as did Sansa's but the new revelation struck a cord in him.

What truth could Lord Reed possibly know? His father had kept the truth of his mother but how much a scandal could her identity truly be?

The conversation between them died as the raft now found itself moored alongside one of the towers, more men stood atop Greywater watch to receive them. 

Many had tridents but it was no more than half a dozen, most were women or small children. 

Two such children approached Lord Reed as soon as he'd made it out of the raft, a young girl cheerfully enveloped the lord in a hug while the boy that was with her stayed back. The boy and girl both had hair that was red like Sansa's, as did the woman who must be Lord Reed's wife. The boy unsettled Jon some, his eyes seeming to stare straight through Jon before looking to Sansa and smiling at her. 

It did not look like the smile of sheepish boy but rather one of pity for what was to come.

Jon moved to place aid Sansa out of the boat and place himself between her and the boy, Sansa's movements being surprisingly quick as she was whisked onto the platform by the aid of the crannogmen that had come to receive them.

Jon huffed a bit and made to get onto 'land', himself. 

Lord Reed spoke first.

"Its good to see you again, Meera. Did you miss me truly?" 

"Hunting isn't the same without you and Jojen is no fun to spar with, father. He said when you'd arrive back early with guests and so you have." Meera Reed spoke as if Jon hadn't just heard her say that her brother could peer into the future. 

Stories told of such people throughout history but Jon was on guard all the same. 

Did Lord Reed's son also know who his father's guests true identities were?

Lord Reed ruffled Meera's hair before shooting a somewhat alarmed look in the direction of his son.

The boy simply shrugged. 

"I shared no more than that. Your guests will have a long and pleasant stay here. No harm is coming for them." 

The boy had just said that Jon and Sansa would be safe but that their stay would be long, gods only knew how long he actually meant. 

A moon or two? Mayhaps a few name days would pass before Jon and Sansa carried a fussing toddler back through the swamps toward White Harbor's waiting ships. 

"Thank you son. Jon and Alayne Stone, may I present my children. My fierce daughter here is Meera while her brother is called Jojen." 

Sansa, ever the dutiful lady, made to curtsy as best she could to all present. 

"My husband and I humbly thank your Lord father and all of you for allowing us to seek refuge with you." 

Howland's wife who Jon recalled now was called Jyana, looked at Sansa for a moment before a flicker of recognition passed from her eyes and she shot her husband a look of alarm. It was brief but it was there.

Jon tensed but felt Sansa reach for his hand and squeeze her fingers around his own. 

"My husband is not one given to whims so I'm sure he had good reason to bring you and your husband back with him. I've longed for another woman's help with preparing new garment for the children. If you would not mind I'm sure I could find a place for you amongst the servants."

Sansa seemed surprised by the offer but accepted quickly with vigorous nod and yet another bow of the head.

"It would be my honor, my lady."

Lord Reed chose this moment to interrupt. 

"I'm sure Alayne would like to tour the castle with you, good wife. Perhaps you'd care to show her where she can wash herself first, the roads did not offer much accommodation for us, you see."

Jyana Reed nodded. 

The lady of Greywater Watch took Sansa's hand and made to lead her away but not before turning to whisper something in her husband's ear.

Howland Reed's eyes became like saucers for a moment before he looked to Jon who'd began to make to follow Sansa.

"Much as I'm sure you'd like a bath with your wife, Stone. I'm afraid we've much to discuss, pertaining your family back in the Vale."

Course it was a lie. 

But Howland Reed could scarcely mention Winterfell even amongst his own house.

" I'm as dirty as my lady wife, aye. I'd feel better accompanying her on the tour your wife so graciously offered. My thanks, Lady Reed for aiding my wife, the babe did not make the journey here any easier. She'll be glad to have another woman with her for such things."

Lady Reed once more gave her husband a long, nearly panicked look as she simply accepted Jon's thanks and took Sansa with her retinue into the castle proper.

Howland Reed sighed, deflating as he once more embraced his children before bidding them and the guards to leave Jon and himself alone. 

"Jyana will understand far better than you'd think. You'll have no reason to fear, your lover and child are safe here as long as you wish to remain." 

"How long is that to be, Lord Reed."

Lord Reed didn't answer.

He simply turned and began walking, bidding Jon to follow him.

They walked from the raft and into the nearby tower, climbing the stairs to reach the top. 

Jon hoped he would hear of what great secret Howland Reed held over him but the man simply walked out a door that greeted them and made to walk a rope bridge to the main keep. Jon followed far behind, hands gripping the railings for dear life, each step came with hesitation before Jon worked the courage to take another.

When they'd reached what could only be Howland Reed's Solar, Jon expected more delays. 

He was not disappointed.

"Would you like something to drink before we begin? I've some Arbor gold stashed away for a special occasion, I'd say this is a momentous occasion. Wouldn't you?" Lord Reed asked as he made to check the hallway outside before promptly shutting and locking the door. 

Jon felt himself worried at what he'd learn of his mother. 

" No my Lord, I'd just like the truth. The truth you've spoken of in riddles and off handed comments since my sister and I came upon you on the road. I'd have liked her here with me for whatever your to say to me but I'll not look a gift horse in the mouth. You've been kind when you didn't have to be. I'll put my trust in you til you show me reason otherwise." Jon declared as he at last sat. 

Howland Reed set the bottle of Arbor gold on the table between them and produced two cups from a drawer, they were silver with gold trim on top. Expensive cups for a costly wine Jon felt he was undeserving of. 

"Where to start....."

"The beginning would be nice. How did my father, Ned Stark come to know my mother?"

Howland Reed smiled at Jon as he made to sipp his wine before giving Jon an answer. The Lord ran his long finger along the edge where his lips had just been and seemed deep in thought, the silence that hung in the room was suffocating.

"Ned Stark knew your mother all his life. They grew up together and were often too stubborn for their own good, he'd swear himself a better rider and swordsmen but she'd best him as often as he did her."

It was a shock. His mother had grown up around Ned Stark, around nobility. What's more she had ridden a horse and swung a sword like any man would. 

Jon pictured Arya in his minds eye when trying to imagine what his mother had been like.

" Your uncle Benjen loved her as much as Ned did but he could see your mother was not to be tamed, she'd love and dress how she wished. Many times Ned wished for your mother to settle down and be a proper lady."

Uncle Benjen? What did he have to do with....

"Is my Uncle Benjen my father?" Jon asked, his lips dry as he thought of how Benjen Stark would sometimes visit Winterfell. The man always had a kind word for Jon and told him tales of life at the Wall. 

Had he gone there because of him? Had his father been forced to keep a secret, the shame of which had forced him to take the black. But why visit then? Was the man a coward who'd left Jon to be raised by Ned out of cuckoldry?

If that were true then Ned Stark was the victim in all this, which failed to explain Howland Reed's distaste for his father. 

"No. He is your Uncle as sure as Ned Stark is."

The world went still. Everything around him froze for an instant but he could still hear Howland Reed's words, barely heard of the sound of the ocean his ears. His breathing was suddenly difficult as well. 

"Lyanna Stark was your mother. Jon Snow is not the name she chose for you but what your uncle deemed to call you after he found your mother near death on her birthing bed."

Jon's vision swam and he practically fell into the chair he was sitting in, otherwise he'd have fallen to the ground had he been standing. 

"Your lying.....he's....Ned Stark is my father, he raised me and gave me everything I have.....why would he keep such a thing from me, his own nephew?" Jon managed to get out, voice shaking as he said the words. 

Nephew.

He had no brothers and sisters, not even half-siblings. 

It had been a lie. His whole life.

Howland Reed rose from his chair and made his way around to stand beside Jon, kneeling down to rest a comforting hand on Jon's shoulder while the world kept spinning. 

Jon watched as Lord Reed poured him a drink and he did not refuse the offer now. 

He downed the wine that tasted of fruits, and put his cup out for another. Lord Reed obliged him. 

It was on his third cup that Jon felt himself ready to sit up and hear more of the truth Howland Reed had to offer. 

My whole life is a lie. 

"If I'm still a Stark by blood then why hide the fact? Who could be so bad that my...my uncle, would risk Lady Stark's wrath?"

Why had he been subject to that old crones hateful stares and abuse if Ned Stark was truly not his father. 

He'd never heard of his Aunt, now mother, Lyanna ever marrying so he was still a bastard. 

Life was most cruel with its twisted sense of humor.

"Your father died before you were born."

So they were both gone then. He was truly alone. 

“I'm sure he'd be proud of the man you've become, Aegon.”

Jon looked at him in confusion. 

“Aegon? Are you saying that my name is not even my own?” 

Had Ned Stark truly taken everything from him, even the name he'd been given at birth?

“Your mother chose for you the name of your great ancestor. Your name, your true name, is Aegon Targaryen. Sixth of his name, rightful king of the seven kingdoms.” 

It was too much. He'd wanted answers but this? 

This was too much. 

Lord Reed reached into his desk and pulled from it a bound satchel containing various letters. 

The Lord slid one letter toward him and Jon began to feel his eyes grow wet with tears. 

The words upon the page were addressed to him. Speaking from a long buried past that his uncle had barred him from ever knowing. His sister, Sansa was nothing of the sort but his cousin. The attraction they'd felt was not a sin! Their child would be a prince or princess. 

The letter began with the words

“To my dearest son, Aegon. I cannot wait to hold you and to know you. I've felt you grow inside my body these many months so I know that you are a strong child. Your father thinks you're to be a girl but I know my own body better than he. Your going to be a kind and wonderful prince, Aegon. I cannot wait to hold you and stare into your eyes, hold your tiny hands in my own, to play with your small toes that you'd kick to let me know you were hungry while you grew. Above all else please know that I Lyanna Stark, now Lyanna Targaryen hold nothing but love in my heart for you. You are my moon and my stars, the center of my world.”

Jon's hands shook as he read the letter, his breath coming in rasps as he began to weep. He'd had a mother who had loved him! He wasn't a bastard, wasn't less than any other boy, far from it. 

“Should something happen to me that we are parted, please do not lose your kindness, little dragon. Carry yourself with honor and do what is right rather than what men would have you do for their own ends. Keep the old gods close to you and remember you are a prince destined for greatness, your birth was prophesied by your father as surely as your reign. You will face many hardships in your life but I pray that I am with you, should the gods not be kind then know that I am watching over you. Carry the love of your father and I with you through whatever hardships and boons your life should face. I love you my son now and always. Your dearest mother, Lyanna Targaryen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Their you have it. Yes technically Jon also is king of Andals, Rhoynar and first men but with everything going on from his perspective, its the little details that get overlooked. The next chapter will be about Jon (Aegon?), telling Sansa the truth about how they are related. Her reaction and her thoughts on the matter. 
> 
> Would like to hear what you all think and how you think Sansa will take this news. 
> 
> I'm considering renaming Jon chapters as Aegon Chapters going forward to illustrate the character break but I'd like to hear other opinions. 
> 
> Thanks again for your patience and support.


	18. BOBBY B: I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The King comes to Winterfell.

BOBBY B: WINTERFELL

The sounds of hooves upon the ground sounded as the mass of horses, men and wagons moved forward at a slog. It was all a man could do not to go mad!

Robert Baratheon King of the Seven Kingdoms. What a load of horse shit that was, it felt like he was playing nurse maid half the time to men who thought him simple of mind. The other half he was deep in a woman, his cups or preferably both!

Those moments when he was a younger man with less fat on his belly and more strength in his arm than half the realm, those had been his best of days. 

But those days had not stayed long. Time had moved and with it, events he could not control. The GreyJoy rebellion had been a welcome distraction from the petty bickering of court. Taking to the field and rallying his banners as he'd moved from Kingslanding toward the direction of the Iron Islands. 

The Crownlands, Riverlands and Westerlands too, had welcomed him and his growing army with good cheer and drink. Maidens had fallen on his cock like it was blessed by the Seven, he'd sired more than a dozen bastards, he was sure of it. 

Oh how great war had been. 

It would still be great but none had seen fit to challenge him since he'd cowed the weak Iron born for their troubles. 

If only Tywin would raise his army! He could cast off his loveless marriage with Cersie and find himself a younger more agreeable Queen. 

Names floated up to his minds eye as the towering fortress of Winterfell could be seen in the distance. He thought of Ned's face before he thought of the women he'd rather have at his side for this moment. 

Arianne Martell would make a fine addition to court. The rumor had it that she was a fat child that had grown into a buxom woman with olive skin and a deep knowledge of how to pleasure a man. 

The Martells had never forgiven him for the killing of the dragon spawn and he'd not shed fake tears over those that would threaten all he'd gain by right of conquest. Doran was too cowardly a man to ever rise against him so he doubted he'd ever have the chance to take the daughter of Sunspear away to his bed. 

Margeary Tyrell. His brother's work toward setting up a marriage between the most powerful house in the seven and that which fed all the kingdoms, was a genius one. But his poor brother was too daft if he thought he, the king, could simply set aside Cersie and take the daughter of Hightower in her place. Better for Renly to have the girl and bind Stag and Rose together. 

Besides, the girl barely had a chest to speak of. A pretty face was all she was and if that was the whole of her, he'd keep to fucking Cersie from behind and pretending she was his Lyanna. 

Cersie was a cold shrew of a woman but least she had an ass and tits that put many a woman to shame. Then the lion bitch would open her mouth and Tywin Lannisters words would spill forth leaving his cock shriveled and the spell broken. 

Perhaps if he was truly out of his wits he would have asked Ned for Sansa's betrothed to himself. It was a mad idea to be sure but oh what a union that would have been! He could rightly imagine Ned Stark clubbing him good and hard in the face for preying on the beauty of the North. 

Course he'd never be so low a man to do that to his best friend. So he instead set about making match between Sansa and his son Joffrey. It hadn't been the wisest decision to hear Jon tell it and the man who had been like a father to him had worn such a look of satisfaction when word had come that it was not to be. Jon couldn't hide the disgust nor could the rest of the council when the truth of why became apparent. 

The Gate grew closer. His honor guard moved ahead of him to make the way safe. As if any would dare threaten him, most of all his good friend. Ned would have the man torn from mouth to arse for the offense while he toasted his warden's shrewd justice. 

"We are almost there my King." 

"Aye, make sure you make a grand entrance. I'll not have my Warden think I'm some pauper King. 

"As you command my King." The knight said before riding on ahead. Sure to pass on Robert's command to the Hound and those pulling the insufferable red wheelhouse that would enter before him. He prayed to the Seven that his son had sense enough not to do something stupid. He'd hit the boy til he was a blubbering fool if Joffrey should embarrass him in front of Ned. 

Cersie shielded their son from all manner of hardship and had made him into a cowardly prince with all the looks of a lion and none of the warrior spirit of Stag. 

If that was all Cersie had given him then he'd be done with her from the moment Joffrey had slit the belly of a bitch cat and shown him the dead kittens inside. 

Tommen and Myrcella, thank the seven, were nothing like their older brother and mayhaps some tragedy would befall his first born. Maybe having a real man at court besides his own father, would give the boy the right notion of how to see the world and Joffrey would forget the foolishness of his early years. 

It would be another dozen name days at least before the realm would have worry to see Robert Baratheon depart the world. He was still the strong Stag he had always been and would enjoy every moment of it being anywhere but the stuffy boring meetings of the small council. Ned would see to all that. 

Tommen and Myrcella would do much to serve him while he worked alongside his dearest friend to make Joffrey into a proper prince fit to be king some day long in the future. 

The men at the head of the column rode through the gate of Winterfell, followed close behind by the wagon that held his queen and two children. His first was too busy looking like someone above all that he surveyed, though perhaps Robert imagined it. Least no one would ever say Joffrey Baratheon didn't know his station in life. 

Finally it was his turn and he slowed his pace to draw out the entrance as much as possible, sucking in a deep breath as he felt nervous, just as he had when he'd been a lad, before his first battle. 

Ha! Imagine that, he the killer of dragons and smasher of Kraken upstarts, was nervous! 

It was all he could do to hold in the laugh at his own expense. By the Seven, what would Ned think of him when he saw him? What had time done to his friend? Ned was look every bit the young warrior still, he'd not had the stress of court or the weight of a crown nor the damned iron throne to rob him of his youth. 

And then he was there, Eddard Stark of Winterfell, Warden of the North and Robert Baratheons truest friend. The future hand of the King that would set the kingdom right. 

Robert tried to smile and he prayed it not look as forced as it felt. 

The people around the courtyard were bowed in reverence as well they should but when they made to rise, he beheld the sight of the family that had come to greet him. 

A distance existed between Cat and Ned that should not exist between a man and wife. By the gods, he stood closer to Cersie, when occasion called for it! What had divided them so? 

Sure Ned's bastard was an evil creature but surely Cat could not blame Ned for it? What right did she have? What a fool woman Ned had married. 

In another life he'd not be with Cersie or perhaps any one woman. In that other life he had no doubt that Ashara Dayne would be besides Ned Stark with their own keep in the North. That the girl had died and damned honorable Ned had married the Tully girl had never seemed to bring anything but joy for his friend but now it was not so. 

Now it was like Cat had caught Ned in bed with half a dozen whores and banished him for his troubles. 

He approached, awaited the servants who helped him from his horse and then made straight for his kneeling friend, bidding him to rise with a wag of his finger.

When Ned's head rose it was a moment that stopped Robert cold, seeming to freeze time. 

Gone was the boy who had ridden off to war against the Mad King. Gone was the man who had helped him take the Iron Islands and cement his friends rule of the Seven Kingdoms. 

In his place stood a near stranger that resembled Ned Stark but was foreign enough to foster doubt. His hair was bedeviled with white and his face just as much so, a thick messy beard having grown to hide much of his friends face.

What the fuck had happened to Ned?!

“You got fat.” He says in jest, hopeful that his friend will say something witty. Gods willing Ned will forget himself and throw a punch. Decorum be damned, he'll forgive Ned the trespass so long as he sees a glimmer of life in those eyes. 

Ned simply stares at him like a man deaf and dumb to the world. The Warden of the North wears a grumpy scowl more aligned to a Septa in a whore house than Eddard Stark of Winterfell. 

But still he waits for Ned to say something, the pause stretching on uncomfortably. 

When last the silence is broken it is not Ned but Catelyn who speaks.

“We are pleased to welcome you to Winterfell your grace.” Catelyn says with cheer that rings false in Roberts ears, perhaps its simply devoid of warmth for Ned, her smile seems genuine at least. 

“Aye. It is good to see you my king.” Ned says.

He speaks! By the gods old and new, Robert was convinced he'd found himself trying to converse with a mute. 

“Doesn't seem so. You'd think someone had off and died by the look of you all.”

A pale silence. 

“Forgive my father and mother your grace. My sister is still missing.”

A pained look crosses a young man's face who stands besides Ned. 

Robert turns his attention to this lone voice of strength in a sea of weak silence. 

The boy not yet fully a man, is stocky of build with blue eyes and red-brown hair that favors his mothers side. Robert is glad to see a fierce fire burns in those blue eyes. 

He'll make a fine warden of the north some day. A real warrior that one. 

“You must be Ned's son.”

“Aye, your grace. This is Robb Stark, my eldest.” Catelyn says.

Why did people feel the need to answer for the boy? A real man spoke up for himself without hiding behind his fathers legs or mothers skirt. 

“I was talking to the lad, Ned. He can speak for himself, can't you boy?”  
Robert smiles at Robb when he says the words, hopeful he's not some stuck up southern, easily offended. Before the King, all would be noble sons would be nothing but boys, their fathers not much better. 

Best they not forget their place. 

Robb Stark didn't rise to the bait and whine, he reached out a hand and Robert clasped it. A firm shake with a strong grip his reward. 

“Its as you say my King. I'm Robb Stark, Heir to Winterfell and sworn to your service.” 

The boy seems to look to his mother before hastening to add.  
“And that of your son, Prince Joffrey, when the gods deem it time.”

Shrewd boy that one. 

Robert smiles and makes to speak when the shrill voice of his harpy wife drills into his ears like the hum of thousand flies upon a rank pile of horseshit.  
“Its good to see northerners still know their courtesies.” Cersie says with her usual condescending air for all those she deemed beneath her. He should back hand the woman for forgetting her place but it would not do, far too many eyes and ears filled the courtyard. 

The brazen Queen puts out her hand as if she expected Ned's son to lick her fingers clean of dirt. Ha! As if the boy would..

His eyes go wide as he observes Robb boldly take Cersie's hand in his own, handling them with as much care as if they were fine porcelin. The boys lips touch Cersie's small middle knuckle in a chaste kiss that seems to linger far longer than Robert would like. 

He turns from the boy to again regard his wife and is struck by the look of shock that adorns his Wife's face. Cersie is not quick enough to hide the rising pinkness of her cheeks. 

By the gods! His bitch wife is turned on by the northern savage! Ha! 

The Stones on this one!  
Finally he can stand no more and clears his throat. Robb appears to come out of some daze because he withdraws his lips from Cersies's knuckle, his face now sporting a faint blush to match that of the Queen. 

Cersie ever the damned stuck up wench, does not appear hurried in her motions as she pulls away her hand and moves to greet the boys parents. 

“A fine young man you've raised Lord Stark.” She says. 

Ned and Catelyn both offer thanks for the praise, Catelyn speaking more than Ned, as seems to be the custom. 

He'll not waste time listening to his prattling wife nor the mumbling half hearted words of his friend. Robert moves to the next child in line and is taken aback by the sight of the young wolf before him.

“You must be....” He begins. The girl is small and fierce but clothed in finery that seems ill suited to her body and less so her face.  
Hers is not the face of a princess but that of warrior. He thinks of what will become of this waif of a girl before him and the image in his mind's eye is of Lyanna. The gaze of the girls eyes throw him back to another time, a time he longs to lose himself in. A time without a crown and lion wife. 

A time when he was to have a fierce she-wolf as his bride and his best friend as a brother. When the world was right and made sense. 

“Your the King.” Says a small voice, sounding more questioning than anything else.

“Arya!” Catelyn scolds off from the side and the little girl's eyes dart to the side before she swallows and courtsies. 

Oh the poor girl! She's no lady but she's trying her hardest to meet her mothers expectations. 

His own daughter is older and grander in both looks and dress but has none of the fierceness that Arya holds in her gaze. 

“My King. I beg pardon. I meant no disrespect...I..” She begins but he'll have none of that. 

“Come here girl.” Robert says and envelops the poor girl in a hug that has her brothers snickering.  
A gasp of surprise is his reward and he whispers in the child's ear.

“No need to be stuck up like these southrons, your a northern girl full of ice and stone like your father. You'll make a fine bride someday if the poor lad can handle you.” 

He pulls back, ruffling the young girls hair, messing her intricate braiding but the poor thing seems not to mind at all. Cat may well shoot him daggers but he cares not. 

He moves down the line to the next child, a young boy of no more than eight or ten name days. 

“Show us your muscles.” He asks the lad and it brings a smile that pulls at the sides of his mouth to see the poor jump into the fire head first, flexing his little arm to show off muscles that have yet grow.

Boys not much older than this had gone to war and been made men if not in body than in mind. Their bodies would bear scars but none so deep as the memories that plagued some poor bastards who saw the worst of it. 

He should ask the boys name but can't be bothered he finds. He'll know them all by heart when they are family. What a moment that will be. 

“My Queen.” He hears twice over. First from Ned and then Cat. 

Cersie, stuffy bitch that she was, wished for whole north to kiss her arse and bend the knee to do it. What a damn Wretch she was. 

“Ned. Take me to your crypts, I wish to pay my respects.”  
Cersie looks at him like he's mad and swallows down a retort, none but Robert taking notice, she's done it plenty enough through their years of marriage. When she had no sense between her ears on occasion, his hand rose to remind her. 

“We've been riding for a month, my love. Surely the dead can wait?” She says to him as though she thinks to dissuade him from his true love.  
When the fog of drunkness parted some, he'd had occasion to take the proud lion and shove his great cock up her arse and shout the name of his true love. A woman that would stand taller than any tower, next to the chamber pot he'd been forced to marry.  
She could fuck right off and be glad he didn't shout her down!

“Ned.” He commands, knowing full well his warden will have sense to follow. Whatever spell that had befallen Ned, he'd still follow his kings command without question. 

The Relm needed a hand who's house was Stark. Only they could put right the relm and leave him to get on with being a 'proper' king.  
Chataya's brothel would be seeing more of its good king in the coming months. Robert thought before banishing the thought of the Summer Isle women and their jet black skin. 

He took one step after another, each as if by memory. He'd never forget how to get back to his love. The sound of another pair of foot steps fall in line with his own but his friend does not make to speak to him. 

Damn this mute mummery! Had someone kidnapped Ned Stark and put an imposter in his place? Would he turn a corner only for Ned to shove a sword in him and peal away Ned's glum face to reveal a stranger sent to do him in?  
It grew tiresome when they descended the stairs into the crypt and finally he could take no more of it after they'd gone a good ten paces. 

“Aren't you even gonna ask about Jon?” Robert demands at last. 

Ned Stark's eyes go wide and his speech at last returns to him as he stumbles for words like some stupid boy of five. 

“Jon....have...have you found my son and daughter, your grace?”  
His son? With all that was going on, his friend could not even think of the man that had raised them like a second father? 

“Not your bloody bastard. Jon Arryn! By the seven Ned, I sent ravens ahead moons ago!”

Ned's face falls and life deserts his friend once more like a candle snuffed out in the wind.  
“I'm sorry your grace....with all thats happened I've not had much time to dwell on Jon Arryn's passing. With my children gone....”

Damn him. Robert feels the irritation ebb some as he trys to imagine what it would be like for one of his bastards to make off with their true born brother or sister. He'd smack Joffrey and Tommen good upside the head, beating em til they could barely stand.  
His mind drifted to Mya Stone and the chubby cheeked babe his daughter, his first daughter, had been. By the seven she would be older than Ned's heir by now.  
How had he let Cersie keep him from his child? 

Mya the child became Myrcella the young princess in the span of two blinks of the eye. He didn't know his base born sons well, never even seen hide nor hair of em. He'd cut their cocks clean off before he took their arms and legs. By the end of it, no shared blood would save them from their fate, they'd shit themselves from the pain and beg him, take their head. 

Ned you poor honorable fool. How had the man not been wise to his son and daughter's going on? Suddenly he was thankful to his wench of a wife for not allowing Mya to court if only because he may have wished to find his eldest bastard sons and bring them along as well. 

Eddard Stark of Winterfell was kind and honorable man, who had shown too soft a hand toward his base born son. How had the runt bastard repaid his father? By fucking his sister and dragging her away while their father lost more of himself by the day.  
It was as plain as day that the bastards betrayal had hurt Ned terribly. The guilt his friend must feel, the blame Cat and everyone must surely have leveled against their proper lord. 

It cheered Robert some to know he would take Ned away from this nest of vipers into another, least in Kingslanding the backstabbing lot did not wear the faces of Ned's own blood. 

“Its alright Ned....I forget sometimes what you've been through. Its been what...three moons? Still no word?” Robert asks.

“Aye. We hear things from time to time. A scout will tell a tale of a girl and her lover in the next village over from where we'd last looked. Cat will get her hopes up as well the children.”

A pause. Robert finally decides to coax his friend onward.

“And?”

Ned looks at him with such mirth and frustration. Real emotions at long last to go with full sentences! By the father, he's making progress.

“And its always the same. We catch some poor small folk couple in bed and scare em half to death. Once, a boy of no more than fourteen was brought before me with his betrothed of eleven name days. His hair was brown as dirt and hers as gold as wheat.”

“Sounds like you've need of better men.”

“I have what the north gives me.”

Robert puts his hand on Neds shoulder.

“What if you didn't just have the North?”

“My...My lord, I could never impose the burden upon you. It is my own to carry.”  
“Enough of that talk! We're friend aren't we? Brothers nearly if not for damned dragons. We helped one another to get justice for Lyanna and we'll do the same for your daughter, Sansa.”

“I...I don't know what to say. I've done nothing to deserve such a boon your grace. I'm in your debt truly.” Ned says and makes to kneel on the crypt floor. 

Enough of that! 

"Up with you! Ned, I've no need of bootlickers, least of all back in the capitol.”

“The capitol?” Ned questions.

“yes. I wished to tell you straight away before I set out on the road but decided to come in person. Besides, I've been away from here for too long.” 

Ned still does not comprehend.

“Speak plainly your grace. My days are long and dark these past three moons, I've not the patience for riddles.”

Ned says the words not with any challenge but with a weary tone. A tone that is empty of either hope or patience. 

“Do I really need to draw you a map? Your to be my hand. After we've feasted and drank ourselves nearly to an early grave, you'll come back to the capitol to help me put right the seven kingdoms.”

“My grace...I can't..”

“Can't? The wish of your king not good enough? The wish of your friend? Because your the last I have in the world Ned, the last true friend who can tell me straight what needs be done and see that others do the same.” 

“My son and daughter are still missing....if...”

“Its been three moons already Ned! Heard tell from Varyes himself that your children haven't been seen in Westeros since they disappeared. When I heard the news I pulled the cock-less man from pursuing the dragon to look for your kin because your my friend still.”

“What did he find?” Ned asks, trepidation written plainly on his long Stark face.

Why was Ned being so dense? Varyes hadn't been successful yet in killing Viseryes Targaryen nor the lads sister, but that wasn't to say he hadn't come close. Would have perhaps been successful in the most recent attempts that had to be curtailed to look for Neds children. 

Varyes had come to the same conclusion as himself. A conclusion Ned was too hard headed to ponder and Cat, bless her heart, couldn't bare to hear.  
Jon Snow had taken a very pregnant Sansa Stark away from Westeros to Essos where the fool girl had obviously chosen to remain and was due to birth a babe. Mostly likely dying for her troubles, being so young with child spelled doom for both baby and mother, often enough. 

He could kick himself for not setting up Ned's girl with Joffrey sooner. What was a bastard next to a true prince of the seven?

Nothing. Less than nothing. 

“Arya misses her sister and Robb has not stopped looking for Sansa.”

“I'd expect the same of my boy if something happened to Myrcella. But does he ride out every day in search of her or has he seen the truth of it?”

“The truth?! The truth is my daughter and son have both sinned before the gods for reasons that are unknown to me. Jon is...was a good man. Sansa is just a girl still, she doesn't know what the world can be like outside these walls.”

“Does Robb still ride out every morning then?”

Ned looks away and speaks in a low voice.

“In the beginning he rode every day and Catelyn made sure Luwin brought every bit of news that arrived by raven to her straight away.”  
Ned sighs.

“This last month has seen Cat send more ravens than she gets back. The Lords pledged to us are too honorable to speak the truth, my men just so. I fear her mind has darkened with sorrow and hate. Robb's been better but he drinks too much for a lad his age and rides less now than when he was a boy.” 

Robert makes Ned face him and grasps his friend by the shoulder.

“Listen Ned. The world has gone mad but you'll have more a chance of finding your daughter in Essos if your able to speak with the master of whispers himself. As hand, my gold is yours to use as you see fit. So long as you work a tourney in alongside your search, we'll call it fair.”

“Your grace...I...”

“If you call me 'your grace', once more I'll knock your ears together. Think on it and we'll speak more of our families coming together to aid one another when we've seen to Lyanna.”

And that they do. He'd have taken a horse and ridden here a dozen times over if not for the crown that sat on his head. Not even the narrow sea would have kept him from her if the gods had put her across it. 

That would have been a tale. Him taking up an oar and paddling his way, if need be, to rescue the fairest maiden in all the land. No matter what that dragon had done to her, her honor was not besmirched in his eyes. She was perfect and still would be, if not for the damn Targaryen. 

Some men dreamed of battle and called it a curse. When he dreamed of battle, reliving every moment of the glorious fight, it was the sweetest dream he could hope for. The swinging of his hammer down upon Rhaegar, smashing away the rubies on that pompous dragon's armor, the fear in the monsters eyes when Robert would not delay the justice that must be served. 

The crunching of bone and denting of armor were fresh in his ears as if it had been yesterday. 

He kept beating the hammer into the prince until he was unrecognizable. Just a man who's bones and flesh were broken, who bled like any other he'd killed.  
Some fucking dragon that prince had been. 

He'd have liked to have killed Aerys too but the Kingslayer had beaten him to it. Whatever else Jamie Lannister was, he'd never escape the stink of that day.  
If it had been Robert that must break vows, he'd have taken every slanderous moniker they dared whisper. Then he'd have his hammer smash the teeth from their mouths. 

“Robert. I...” Ned begins but there will be time enough for that later. They've gone down a dark passage and now he stand in front of Lyanna's final resting place. He won't hear talk of kingdoms and lost daughters, even if they come from his truest friend and the girl is Lyanna's niece. 

Wordlessly he knelt before her but his thoughts continued onward, memories and question bubbling up like a foul stew. 

What would she care? She's dead and buried in a horrid place where the sun does not reach her. The crypt is more a prison than a graveyard, Robert thinks to himself. 

“Why did you put her in a place like this Ned? She should have a fruit tree over her, atop a hill with the sun and clouds above to wash her clean.” He speaks the truth to his friend. 

But Ned says nothing for a good while and Robert wonders if the man has gone deaf to the outside world once more. 

If he'd had Mya by side all these years, bastard though she may be, he'd have not stopped searching for her but neither would he have fallen in on himself. Children lived, children died and some met fates that made them long for death. That was the world and while Sansa may be gone, for that is what he knew in his bones, his and Ned's houses could still come together. 

Robert reached out and caressed Lyanna's cheek. It wasn't her. Even the best sculptors would never be able to craft her likeness in stone, yet he couldn't help but think Ned hadn't cared enough to get proper stone masons for the job.

Robert regretted the vile thought the moment it sprung from his mind, only the task of rising his rounded body finally banished such vileness from him. 

“We should return, your wife is waiting.”

His friend was deaf to questions about his own kin, about Lyanna, yet his horrid wife once more came to the forefront. 

“The others take my wife, Ned. I'd rather speak to you of how your to gain a son and daughter.” Robert began and suddenly Ned was looking more himself.  
The look in his friend's eyes of both hope and confusion made him wonder if it was perhaps too soon to speak of such matters but with Ned having accepted his offer, there could be no secrets between them. He'd had enough surprises in his life to last a hundred lifetimes over. Ned deserved better than that from him. 

“What do you mean, Robert? Speak plainly, please. I've neither time nor patience for southron riddles.” Ned has the gal to declare to him. 

He'll allow Ned this outburst because he's seen so little of the man he knows otherwise. 

“I have a son and daughter, Ned. Tommen for your Arya and your Robb for my Myrcella. One betrothed would have been a fine match between us but two will make us stronger than Valyrian steel. Stag and Wolf.” Robert declares as he puts his arm around Ned's shoulder and guides him down the hall and away from the statues of the dead. 

He wants to fill himself with wine until he can barely stand and afterward he'll find a whore. Give the pretty northern girl a tale to tell her grandchildren long after he's left the world. 

Maybe they'd even have a bit of Stag in themselves depending on how the next few days went!

His stay at Winterfell suddenly seemed so much grander than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. I'm going to get more updates out later today and tomorrow. Mostly its going to be a lot of editing. 
> 
> I've tried several times to write an immediate follow up chapter for Sansa when she's just arrived at Greywater watch and learns the truth from Jon, but none of them were to my liking so I'm either going to combine what I have in a later chapter or pull a Tarantino and have her chapter be slightly out of order. 
> 
> What do you all expect her reaction to be? 
> 
> Couldn't put off posting something for another day, especially since many of you have been patiently waiting and we can all relate to finding a good fic only for the author to abandon it part way through. Don't want to do that to you guys and gals. 
> 
> Lastly I've been writing Daeneryes chapters but am unsure weather to have Missandei be aged up like in the show or have her be the young girl she is in the books.


	19. Cersei: I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei begins her stay in Winterfell and visits the Broken tower.

CERSEI I: WINTERFELL

Cersei, Queen of the seven kingdoms by virtue of her marriage to King Robert Baratheon, could have asked to be anywhere in those seven kingdoms. With long golden hair and striking green eyes that dared any to defy her, she was perhaps the most beautiful woman in the kingdom. She could charm noble and commoner alike, with enough wine in her should could even fancy to charm her husband, whore-monger and gluttonous fool that he was. 

So no one would be surprised to learn that Cersei Lannister would never have asked to be in the North. The north with its closed off people that prayed to long dis-proven old gods. All she saw were trees when she looked at any of the Weirwood trees that various houses still kept, weather out of tradition or slothfulness, no one could say and she did not care. 

She could still remember when she'd learned of Jon Arryn's last breath and thanked the gods, though she knew them false, for whatever small favor they had bestowed to her. 

What she had not counted on was for her dear husband to pry his lips off some whore's teats long enough to call for a meeting of the small council. She'd not bothered to attend. 

Nothing the king had to say was ever of any great import, it was only when lucidity came to his bumbling mind for moments at a time to discuss past glories won in battle. Strategy and tactics were second nature to Robert Baratheon, they had been what had won him the crown. 

She liked to think that the dead dragon who's precious rubies now rested with him at the bottom of the Trident, would be King today had he not chose Elia Martell for his wife. The sickly girl was nothing next to Cersei and Cersei's father, Tywin, who had been King Aerys Targaryen's hand and friend, had sought a match between Rhaegar and herself. It would have produced beautiful children with violet eyes and locks of light golden hair. 

Many great achievements would have been born out of a coupling of herself and Rhaegar. Lannister and Targaryen. The Crown and the Westerlands. 

But that man was a fool and he had paid dearly for spurning the betrothal that was planned for him. The betrothed had held dear since she was ten name days and father had told her of her destiny. Her father who had been humiliated by the Mad King he'd faithfully served, may have waited many years to pay the King back for the slight but it had come to pass. 

Now Cersei was Queen. 

Because Cersei was Queen and Robert an unfaithful and violent drunk, she'd fallen back into the waiting arms of the man who'd taken her maiden head when she'd crawled into his bed when she was but two and ten. 

Jamie Lannister. 

Her brother. Her twin. Her everything. 

So now in the cold and dreary North which seemed that way even without Summer having ended, she pulled her brother up through the abandoned tower near the equally abandoned keep that sat beside it. 

"What if we're seen, sister. Can't imagine the Starks will take kindly to missing your grace at the festivities."

He wanted to wait. 

Her brother and Robert had both sensed the foul mood that pervaded Eddard Stark's home. The man's wife did not smile at her husband and seemed to force every modicum of the face she wore before the guests who'd come into her home. That those guests were her betters did not matter to the fish. 

"Fear not, brother." She said as she stopped to pull him to her, inhaling his scent and breathing deeply of the man's musk that she longed for without relief. 

Cersei pressed her lips to Jamie's and he let her tongue dance with his own, their heads pressed together just as they'd been in the womb. 

"Roberts drowning himself in whatever swill these Northerners call wine, the last person he wishes near him is his wife. You saw how he was with the serving wenches...."

The look of pity her brother gave her disgusted her. For the looks of pity were meant to fall on others, others who were not Lannisters. 

That her brother should look at her with pity made her fury rise deep from whatever part of herself she hid her true feelings. 

The hurt of her newly married husband taking another between the sheets for the first time. The hurt she'd felt blossom on near half her face when Robert had struck her when she'd had the tenacity to roar at him like the lion she was, for his cheating. 

Fuck the king. She thought was her hand slid down her brothers tunic and slide beneath his trousers to grab hold of Jamie's swelling manhood. 

It belonged to her the same way Jamie did. Every part of him. 

But this part was special. She mused as she stroked him slowly, Jamie's breath hitching a bit as she tightened her grip. 

This cock with its golden hairs that matched those around her own precious core, had gifted her the seed that had become her three perfect children. 

Joffrey the handsome and caring young boy who would rule long and with justice. The history books would not be large enough to record all her first born's deeds when he came of age and assumed the crown. You could scarcely do worse than the fool who sat upon the throne now.

Myrcella was next and though she loved her daughter, she'd had little time for the little lion when her brother needed all the council and care Cersei could offer. But her daughter was beautiful like her, blessed with a laugh and carefree attitude that could only come with youth. 

In time it would surely die but Cersei was in no hurry to rush through with the destruction of her daughter's ignorance of the world. Her own father had done that when Cersei had been found praying in the Sept for her mother to not die, he'd told her the truth of the gods then and Cersei could not fault him for it. How could she refute her father when the abomination that took her and Jamie's mother from them, walked free upon the earth. 

Lastly her smallest was the young Tommen who cared a great deal for various animals, especially cats. The boy was sweet and it would fall to his older brother who was also a prince, to teach him to better mistrust those that were not them. 

Cersei was rewarded for her lapse into the past by the feel of her brothers fingers threading through her small clothes and massaging the set of lips every girl had between her legs since birth. Lips that begged for a man's kiss just as much as those on her face did, but only if they were Jamie's lips. 

Robert hadn't cared to kiss her there and she'd been glad of the fact. Who knew where else her husbands lips had been? Some unwashed Flea Bottom cunt, no doubt. 

"Hurry, we've got to be quick." She moaned. 

Jamie smiled at her with such mischievous eyes that it made her melt for him all over again, those eyes that held such promise of passion that was hers and hers alone.

"We should wait til we've found somewhere more secluded, Cersei" Jamie says to her as he traces the whole way of her slit with his long finger before his hand leaves her sex entirely. 

She can do no more than huff in annoyance as her brother now takes the lead. Making his way up the the steps ahead of her with a hasty caution, checking that the stairway is still sound. 

This was what a man should do for the woman he loved. Protect her even at the risk of his own life. 

Their son would sit upon the iron throne, secure from harm, so long as Jamie stood beside him. Though Joffrey would never know the truth, Jamie would be more a father to him than Robert could ever hope to be.

The stairs as with the rest of the tower proved surprisingly bare of spiders or rodents, though Cerise knew not why until her and Jamie came upon a door that marked the upper most chamber of the tower itself. 

Jamie looked at her and put his hand to the hilt of his sword, as though he was to charge into a room of ruffians and scoundrels meaning to harm his dear sister. 

It brought a smile, a true genuine smile to her face that had lacked for the whole of the journey from Kings Landing. 

The door opened and Cersei and Jamie couldn't hide their shock at what greeted them. 

A surprise to be sure but a welcome one. Thought Cersei as she eyed the fresh blankets and feathered pillows that adorned the room, itself looking less a ruin than the tower that housed it. Cersei licked her lips when she saw the candles and positioning of all the furniture. This had been the place!

This had been where the prideful and uptight warden of the North, had been betrayed by his bastard boy and true-born daughter. 

She pulled Jamie further into the room and it was not a moment later that his lips were on hers, his hands palming her breasts, her nipples growing hard to his touch, yearning for him.

But it was not Jamie that took the initiative. Despite her finery and a great many prized jewels that must cost more than all the garments the ladies of the north could afford, she cared not if those garments should be sullied a bit in pursuit of the truest treasure in all the seven.

Jamie's cock.

Her hands found the ties to her twin's trousers and slide them down to pool at his feet, his own hands unfastening his small clothes. 

The small clothes did little to hide her brothers growing affection for her.

Cersei ran her tongue along her lips and felt the edges of her mouth pull upward in a true smile. She rarely smiled for true, certainly not for the whoremonger king she'd been sold off to a lifetime ago. 

The small clothes were barely off when she leaned forward, mouth wide, taking all of her twin's member in a single wanton go. 

Jamie moaned, or else her ears mistook her own song of pleasure as she ran her tongue along the growing length that was so much like a fine sausage, a piece of meat meant only for her and her alone. 

She'd once taken Robert in her mouth, he'd been drunk and she had been not much older than Lord Stark's bastard. It had made her retch and run to whatever servant could fetch her rough paper so as to scrape her tongue clean of her husbands filth. 

Jamie was different she mused to herself as her tongue claimed her twins every throbbing vein, every stray hair. It all tasted just as it had when they had been but ten and two name days, they had aged like wine. 

"Cersei....fuck....if you keep like that I'll finish before your ass is out of those clothes." Jamie moaned appreciatively. 

Her twin was of the same mind as her, just as it had always been. Would always be.

She opened her eyes, being able to pick out Jamie from a thousand cocks, so practiced was their affection, especially that of her lips upon his cock. 

She leaned back and let Jamie out of her mouth with an audible pop. 

"Best not to finish just yet then." She said as she rose from her feet. 

Turning from him and walking to a nearby table, she ran her finger along the surface. A light shean of dust confirming what she'd suspected. 

Jon Snow had fucked his child half-sister in this room. 

A part of her felt a pang of sympathy for the two. They were alike on some level, Sansa and her. The poor sweet dove was said to be beautiful but Cersei had only Catelyn Stark's words for proof. 

No girl could be enough for her Joffrey. No maiden could hope to be so pure and dignified that her son should take notice. 

Robert was a fool of a man, her husband had let slip that Sansa and Joffrey would have made a fine match. The fat whoremonger had come into their rooms after a night of fucking the help of some undeserving noble lord who's castle they'd had the misfortune to quarter in for the night. Cersei had simply stared as Robert had slumped onto the bed with a loud thud and proceeded to sound his ass like a horn, filling the room with his filthy stench. 

The memory was like throwing cold water on the embers of her passion, threatening to steal away the tender moment she seldom was gifted these days, to be held by the one man who loved her and knew her as well as she knew herself. Her other half. Her Jamie. 

With frantic haste she worked the dress off and made to set it down on the the table, using an idle feathered pillow to make clean the wood surface. 

Small kisses were upon her shoulder blades and the nape of her neck as Jamie held her, not in lust but in adoration. 

She longed for a moment to be Sansa Stark and Jon Snow, to be so bold as to run off to Essos and make new lives for themselves. Her entertaining court while Jamie dazzled cheese merchants and spice lords from their coin. 

Their three children growing up in a household with a father that was worthy of them instead of absent and drunk. Jamie would teach Joffrey and Tommen how to be warriors while doting affectionately on Myrcella. 

The dream cleared when Cersei felt fingers pry open the slit between her legs and Jamie entered her with his fingers. 

Warmth spread quickly from her core to the rest of her body, She arched her back and leaned forward only to have him roughly grope a breast in response as he pulled her back. 

Her breathing came in rasps as Jamie continued to pump in and out of her, a wet slapping of flesh soon came to reverberate off the walls as her twin stired her up from the inside.

Its was glorious! 

She felt herself reach peak, just as she neared it however, Jamie stopped dead his fingers and pulled out of her.

"What....Why did you stop.....oh.....ohhhh!" Cersei ground out as she felt Jamie enter her for true. His manhood fit insider her like a glove, Jamie was fond of saying. 

Safe away from prying eyes that would dare to judge their love, she gave in at last, her blond locks spilling wildly as he rammed himself against her, her bottom bouncing off him as he grew more feverish in his moments. 

Finally she could take it no more.

"Jamie....I'm close....I'm..."

"Me too. Oh Sweet sister....Cersei.." 

She felt herself reach a great swell of pleasure, nerves flayed as the sensation of Jamie's warmth filled her. 

Cersei breathed heavily as Jamie simply held her, staying sheathed inside as he met her tongue with his own. 

Out of the corner of her eye she spied a rare treasure, a small shard of glass work that showed her the sight of her and Jamie as they would appear to an audience. 

She thought they looked breathtaking, the same creature split in two, pale white skin and blonde of hair. Neither too short or too tall, not a blemish or mark against either. 

Her mind threatened to betray her of course, the marks of bearing three children did mar her body but her twin either did not notice or as Cersei suspected, did not think them ugly. 

All that was ugly and disfigured had been spared them and thrown to the demon that had killed their mother. 

"Fancy another go?" Jamie asked as his breath tickled her ear, she shuddered in response, turning to look in his eyes directly. 

Emerald Green orbs stared into one another, two halves of the same soul seeking permission to continue, to put off being parted as society and the gods demanded. 

Damn them all. Cersei thought. 

Jamie and her were good.

The love they held for another was pure and as natural as any could ever be. 

The Targaryens had shown Westeros this truth. 

It was a shame everyone had forgotten.

Perhaps it would be her and Jamie that would remind them someday. 

Fanciful thoughts of a younger Cersei. A Cersei that had not been spurned by Rhaegar nor struck and humiliated by Robert.

"Always, Love." Cersei spoke as she pulled herself off him. 

Standing tall and proud with all the poise of royalty, she pointed to the spot obviously meant to serve as a bed.

"Lay down and let your sister ride you like a knight rides to war." She taunted huskily. 

Jamie stared at her, mouth upturned in a smirk. 

"As my Queen commands."

Jamie wasted no time to throwing the rest of his accursed clothes to the floor, not caring to dirty them. None would ask him as they would her. 

He laid his body back upon the crude furs, looking as handsome and desirable as always. 

She spread herself, feet on either side of him as he took hold of her firm but gentle. 

Leaning down, she placed her hands on his chest, her right hand over his heart so as to feel it beat. 

It beat for her as her own beat only for him. 

Without him she was nothing and he would surely be as lost without her. 

Jamie looked at her with such trust and love, knowing her since they had grown beside each other in the womb. 

Jamie's right arm grabbed hold of her breast, squeezing as he smiled up at her before he took her cheek and guided her face to his own again. Their lips met and battled for dominance with their tongues exploring one another's mouths.   
Finally Cersei felt him enter for true and withdrew from Jamie's kiss to lean back and begin to 'ride' her twin. 

Sweat pooled around her backside and the aroma of the room was filled with that of their fucking, it was intoxicating and damn near made the trip to the frigid barren north worth while. 

Cersei pushed off of Jamie in small measured movements that built, his hands squeezing her breasts as she bounced upon his member. The wet slapping of flesh filled the air alongside their moans as she and Jamie rode to peak together. 

As they approached the moment though Cersei took Jamie's sword hand and put it to her heart, leaning back she let it trail downward til it rested on her belly, where she held it firm, her hand over his. 

Jamie's eyes grew wide. 

"Cersei...what do you want. Another child....was three not enough?"

"Its never enough....please...give me a fourth....please..." She panted as she rose and fell again and again. Soon Jamie had positioned himself so that as she fell, his ass rose from the furs and his member plunged deeper. 

Cersei could not hold back the sounds of their love making, their carnal fucking, their twisted dance. 

If gods existed she hoped they would grant her a fourth child. 

This day, in this broken tower, she prayed for another son or daughter to begin to grow in her womb. 

If the gods did not exist as her father always reminded her since the death of her mother, she still hoped her brother's seed would quicken her womb. 

Breaking the prophecy of Maggy the Frog. 

She wouldn't lose her children. She would have many more and be a powerful queen yet still, each child sired by the only man worthy of the task. 

The only man worthy of her heart and body. 

Finally Cersei felt Jamie's member pulse, closing her eyes and biting her lip to savor the feeling as her movements quickened with delirium, shorter and more frenzied was her bouncing upon her brothers manhood before she felt an explosion of pleasure and a slickness seep out of her. 

With lust blown eyes she arched her back and moaned in Ecstasy from her peak. 

It was was when her eyes made to look away from the ceiling that she spotted the boy at the window. 

Everything slowed and panicked she made to cover herself but realized it would not matter.

The boy had seen her naked as her name day riding her brother.

She was still naked and impaled upon him.

"Cersei?"

"Stop. Look...." She commanded, her tone filled with fright. 

Jamie must have looked where her eyes focused because she heard him suck in a deep breath and grow still beneath her, even his member shrank, she felt him retreat from her with irritation.

How dare this boy intrude...

The boy still did not move, clearly a child of no more than eight or ten name days at the most, it was when she studied his face though that fresh horror dawned in her minds eye.

This was Brandon Stark!

This was Ned Stark's son!

Whatever the boy said of her and her brother, would be taken as truth before the King and the boy's father. Ned Stark could say that mermaids roamed the Blackwater and the rest of the great houses would least send a scout, such was the reputation of the damned man's honor. 

"Hello there....." Cersei spoke softly as she would to her own children.

The boy still did not move

"Its not nice to spy on people, little one. Your Bran aren't you?"

The boys eyes widened. 

"Yes....Yes your grace. I mean Queen." Bran stuttered out as his eyes seemed mesmerized at the sight of her.

Cersei blushed, such was her beauty that even young boys not yet men could be swept away from their thoughts. 

Good boy.

Cersei felt herself ache as she rose to stand, walking over to the boy slowly, swaying her hips for Jamie's appreciation, she doubted the boy truly could care for such graceful movements. 

Finally when she was within reach of the boy she simply stood there, legs parted slightly as she felt Jamie's precious seed be wasted as it dripped from between her legs to the floor. 

"My brother and I were just playing a game, you like games don't you?"

The boy seemed frozen and struggled to say a word to either of them. 

This would not do. It was boring when your opponent could not even utter words to play along. 

"Like....Like Jon and Sansa?" Bran asked. 

Cersei must have looked surprised because Bran added.

"I heard father and mother shouting....they say he bedded her. But I sleep beside Arya sometimes when I'm scared....is that what your doing?"

The boy was precious. The innocence of him was something that both amused and saddened her, not for the boy but for what must happen now.

"Something like that. But your brother and sister didn't keep their secret well enough, little one. Can you keep our secret, my brother and I would be most glad if you could." Cersei asked.

Bran seemed unsure. She caught sight of the boys eyes as he looked from her hardened nipples, toward the patch of wet blond curls caked in her nectar and Jamie's seed. The boy was naive but no fool. He'd ask his father what the white that spilled from Cersei's legs was. That would lead to Bran Stark to answer questions from his father. 

It couldn't happen. 

She wouldn't risk her children. 

An image of Myrcella filled with holes, Tommen with his head smashed in and finally her perfect prince Joffrey beheaded. The horror of what Robert would do to her was nothing compared to what her husband would do to her children. 

Cersei reached out and stroked Bran's cheek before speaking once more in the same voice she used to sooth Tommen to sleep.

"Pity, sweet child. I guess you'll have to take the secret with you."

"Where?" the soft headed boy asked. 

The Starks truly could not sense danger if a Lion was within arms reach. 

"To the grave, sweet child." Cersei explained as she felt her false smile adorn her face once more, she lunged forward and pushed the boy backwards with all she had. 

She was not so quick the boy did not grasp a bit of her hair, nearly dragging her out the window!

Suddenly her breasts were exposed for any below who might see and she shrieked at the pain.

"Let go!" She cursed at the boy.

"Help!" Bran began to call out and her veins filled with ice. 

Someone would hear! Someone would see her and sure enough discover Jamie and her cunt leaking her brothers seed. 

She would be dead!

Tyrion needn't have bothered to scheme against her when she'd been so foolish to forfeit her own life with her carelessness. 

Hope began to desert her and tears fell from her eyes not from the pain of the damned boy ripping out her hair but at the pain she was soon to endure. 

Suddenly she felt another body pressed against her and had sense enough to look up from her own struggling and see Jamie's fist collide with Bran's head. 

The boy let go of her hair and tumbled down to the ground below. 

Cersei wished to watch the child die for what he'd dared to do to her, to her family. 

But rather than seeing the child fall to the ground and splatter into a thousand broken pieces, a caped figure rushed forward to catch the boy. 

Cersei saw no more as Jamie pulled her back inside and threw her dress at her.

"Get your dress on and fix your hair. We've got to leave. Now!" Jamie commanded.

“What of the boy?” She asked near hysterics. 

"Forget about the boy! Just hurry up. I'll deal with the man below if he saw anything."

"He saw us, Jamie! He saw everything....oh gods our babies...we've got to get to them!" She begged in a panic. 

Jamie laced his trousers and shirt with a speed that had to be seen to be believed. 

"Shut up! Straighten your hair and come out after I've gone through, you make for the stables, I'll be along shortly."

"We can't! If....if Robert get his hands on our children.....Jamie you've got to save them."

Jamie looked at her as though she was being hysterical but how could he be so damned calm? 

Jamie took her face in his hands and kissed her roughly. 

"We've enough men with us that if it comes to it I'll Kill the King and all the Northmen between here and the Rock. Now Put your dress on and fix your hair." 

With a kiss on her forehead, her twin disappeared and Cersei failed to stop the tears that fell from her eyes, wiping her eyes dry only when her breathing at last returned to normal. 

With haste she dressed and made to disappear down the stairs toward whatever fate awaited her.

**Author's Note:**

> Began writing this after seeing several other works start but get abandoned while my own ideas for stories filled a notebook. Welcome all feedback. Will try to blend show and book elements together but chose to go with ages depicted in the show. Decided to take the popular ships and put em into one fic but who can say if this will work out for Aegon.


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